Beauty And The UmOlympic Beast
by Ace of Hearts
Summary: A parody of the popular Disney film, with the WWF Superstars. I think we can all guess who the beast is...
1. Prologue

**_~ Beauty And The Um...Olympic Beast ~_**

* * *

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a young and naïve prince by the name of Kurt Angle. His palace was beautiful and his servants were...ugh...sane, but Prince Kurt was too full of himself to take notice of anything but his prided gold medals, which he won from freestyle wrestling tournaments held all over the globe. And thus the days passed in the palatial castle of Prince Kurt, as he wandered through the airy, exquisitely furnished hallways, gazing lovingly at his gold medals and recounting his stunning medal victories to whomever would listen. 

One fateful evening on a cold, snowy winter, an old and haggard woman clad in all-black knocked on the stately palace doors. Prince Kurt happened to be the one forced to answer the door, since his two part sidekicks, part chief servants Edge and Christian were out trying to score dates with their Stacker 2 friend (don't ask!). Either way, it was just the palace's residents' luck that their prince happened to be the one to answer the door, as the wrinkled little old lady pleaded the prince for some shelter against the bitter cold. In return for the refuge, she offered him a single red rose. Prince Kurt, already bored that there wasn't anything gold and shiny in the deal and more than just a little bit irritated at having his quality time with his medals interrupted, told none too politely for the old hag to take a hike. Distraught at having been oh so cruelly denied shelter, the old lady reminded him to look past her appearance, as true beauty lied only on the inside, and once again pleaded desperately for refuge, only to have Kurt (literally) kick her out of his palace. Denying the old woman shelter so coldly, however, wasn't such a wise thing to do, as Prince Kurt found out when the old woman's visage disappeared in a brilliant flash of light to reveal a bewitching enchantress with golden tresses as bright as the sun. Angry at his cold and cruel manners, the gold-haired sorceress swore to Kurt that he would be punished. The cheerfully vain prince, however, had failed to take in a word she'd said, as he'd been too busy staring at her shiny gold hair and thinking to himself how perfectly it matched his medals. Frustrated, the enchantress bonked him on the head with her magic wand, pulled him to her by the collar, and informed him that he would be punished for his cruel ways. As Kurt Angle blinked, wondering why this nice lady with the hair that matched his medals to a perfection...yeah, they were both so gold and shiny...What was he supposed to be thinking of again? Anyway, Prince Kurt found out soon enough, as the enchantress with the shiny, gold hair that looked just like his medals and would go perfectly with them...ahem! Anyway, the enchantress with as of right now unknown colored hair cursed Prince Kurt Angle, his magnificent castle, and everybody else living inside of it, by turning the prince into a hideous beast and his servants into common household items. Prince Kurt, meanwhile, went into shock when he found out that he could no longer wear his precious gold medals, as they couldn't fit over his giant, beastly neck, and, dejected, hid out in his castle, too ashamed to be seen in public without his medals. His only connection to the outside world was through a magic mirror which he conveniently got from a place unknown. Meanwhile, the red rose that the sorceress had initially offered him when in her old woman disguise turned out to be an enchanted rose. If Prince Kurt could fall in love with someone, and if that girl loved him back, all before the last petal on the magical rose fell, the curse would be lifted from the castle. However, as the years passed by and not a single girl had even appeared at the castle doors, everybody but Prince Kurt sank into a dark despair (he was too busy still mourning the fact that he could no longer fit his gold medals over his giant, beastly head). For if all desirable (and even non-desirable) women were sent bolting from the castle thanks to Prince Kurt's constant babbling about his gold medals when he looked normal, then who in the world could possibly fall for him now that he was a beast? And babbling about both how he won his gold medals _and_ how he could no longer fit them over his head? 


	2. Chapter One

Cue to the outskirts of Connecticut, where the morning sun that signaled the beginning of a new day was scenically rising over the golden horizon, sprinkling rays of fuchsia and marigold across the soft, cloud-dappled skies. The rays lazily bathed across a magnificent estate, which proudly bore the surname McMahon engraved elegantly in white gold on the gates. As the birds flew around, chirping and singing, the doors to the McMahon mansion slowly opened, and out stepped a tall, slim brunette with ice-blue eyes and a rather haughty expression, dressed in a black silk pantsuit and cradling a wicker basket upon which rested a single hardcover book. Stephanie McMahon was her name...and apparently, for that day, at least, returning overdue book(s) was, unfortunately, her game. Stephanie glanced around at her surroundings sneeringly, before huffing and walking over to the gate, strutting along the path that would take her into town. _I can't believe the limo's in the garage today,_ she thought huffily to herself, as she strutted haughtily down the road. _I mean, I know Mom and Shane took the other limo when they got mad at Daddy and everything, but you'd think that with all his money, Daddy would have bought a second limo by now. But no, he has to wait while he gets this whole family feud thing settled._ Stephanie sighed, and paused to flick a lock of chestnut hair away from her eyes.   
"Ugh, and thanks to Daddy's waiting, I now have to _walk_ to town, which means dealing with those idiotic, uneducated townspeople and their ridiculous morning ritual," she grumbled to herself, as she saw with a sinking feeling that she was rapidly approaching the town. A few more yards and she would be there, in time to catch the townspeople's bizarre morning routine. Stephanie stood hesitantly at the town entrance, and darted a quick glance at her watch.   
"Any minute now," she muttered to herself. 

Somewhere in the distance, a lone rooster crowed. A precise second after that first rooster call, all the windows of nearby houses snapped open, one after the other, while overly cheerful townsfolk bubbled, "Good morning!" with chirpy, unnaturally happy voices and goofy smiles on their bright faces. Stephanie scowled, before ducking her head and attempting to hide her face behind the thick hardcover book, deciding to complete this errand as humanly fast as possible. Nodding absently at the scattering of, "Good morning's!" from the insanely chirpy common folk, Stephanie rushed as fast as her designer open-toed sandals could carry her...which, unfortunately, wasn't too fast. Add her desperate tottering on the high, narrow heels of her sandals to the fact that she had her face ducked behind a book, and it wasn't long before Stephie Mac bumped into someone. That someone just happened to be the local baker.   
"Good morning, Stephanie!" the as of right now unnamed baker bubbled happily, a wide grin on his chubby face. Stephanie raised her head to check whom she'd smacked into, decided that she couldn't be bothered with, and pointed out in a clipped tone, "That's Miss McMahon to you."   
"So, Steph, where're you headed with that yonder book of yours?" the baker chirped, ignoring her less-than-cheerful greeting and request to be referred to in a more formal manner.   
"To the bookstore, where else? Now that Shane's taken all his credit cards and checkbooks and moved out to compete with Daddy's WWF, Inc., I'm stuck with returning his overdue books," Stephanie grumbled, and whipped forward the hardcover copy, which proclaimed in bold green letters, _101 Surefire Ways to Steal a Company From Right Under Your Father's Nose._   
"Eh...that's really nice of you, Stephanie," the baker mumbled, looking suddenly uneasy at this unexpected inside look at the billion-dollar McMahon Family.   
"I mean, who the hell does Shane think he is? He had the whole world at his fingertips--granted, he didn't really deserve it, _I_ did--and yet he was willing to throw that all away! And for what? Just to stick up for Mom?" Stephanie ranted. "I mean, yeah, Mom had a right to be upset after finding out about Daddy's affair with Trish Stratus and all, but I took care of that blonde boob like I said I would, didn't I?!"   
"Ugh..." the baker began to inconspicuously inch away from the rambling woman, eyes darting around for the nearest escape route.   
"Honestly, sometimes I just can't believe Shane is a McMahon! Where is his backstabbing spirit? What happened to his manipulating ways? I thought I could look up to him as being just as cunning and mean-spirited as I was, but no, this time he had to stick up for _Mom_ of all people!" Stephanie rambled along. "Please don't tell me that he's going to be fighting 'the good fight' from now on, because if that's the case and Shane's turned over a new leaf, then I think I'm going to throw up. Which isn't a good thing at all, considering how the act of bending over a toilet and hurling your meal into the bowl isn't very lady-like at all. Nor is it a very evil thing to do, and a girl's gotta protect her reputation around here, you know? And what _is_ it about that weird book of Shane's? _101 Surefire Ways to Steal a Company From Right Under Your Father's Nose?! _Shane better not be thinking about taking WWF, Inc. away from Daddy, because if that's the case, then..."   
"Oh, my, look at the time, gotta go!" The baker, who realized that a good ten minutes had passed, zipped out of sight at a fantastic speed, creating a dust cloud behind him.   
"...And about Shane saying that he can compete with Daddy's mind, wha--Hey! Where did that loser go?" Stephanie glanced around, having stopped her rant to take a quick breath of air, and noticed that the baker was long gone. Shrugging, the blue-eyed young woman told herself that the lowly commoner didn't deserve in the least bit to be graced with neither her presence nor her lovely voice anyway, and kept on walking. 

Stephanie finally arrived at the quaint New England bookstore and stormed in, the bell hanging above the door ringing furiously to signal her arrival. The elderly shopkeeper glanced up and squinted, before recognizing his customer and forcing a nervous smile on his wrinkled face.   
"Good morning, Miss McMahon. Did you enjoy the book I lent you two months earlier?" he requested, in a tone as reverent as possible. In response, Steph made a sour face, before replying, "Ugh, what do I care? I wasn't the one who borrowed the book anyways, it was my idiotic brother Shane, and now I'm here to return it for that ungrateful little--"   
"Right, right," the old man interjected quickly, before Stephanie could go off on another one of her anti-Shane McMahon rants.   
"Well, Miss McMahon, it is the store's policy that someone usually pay for an overdue book..." the shopkeeper began. Stephanie's face began to darken, and her chestnut eyebrows narrowed dangerously as soon as those unwelcome words were uttered.   
"But since your family has such influence, I believe that we can just forget about the little fine," the old man quickly informed her. The eyebrows relaxed, but there were still plenty of thunderclouds in Stephanie's icy blue eyes. Obviously, hearing about the fine in the first place had not made her day.   
"And...uh...to compensate you for returning the book in the first place, why don't you pick out any hardcover copy in the store? Whichever one you want, it's yours!" the shopkeeper added quickly, hoping to appease the young woman standing in front of him. Stephanie's expression relaxed somewhat, as she walked over to the shelves, studied the titles for a brief while, and then randomly--or not-so-randomly--chose a copy and showed it to the shopkeeper. The elderly man put on his reading glasses and studied the title critically.   
_"Manipulating for Dummies,"_ he read, and inwardly did a double take, before forcing a hasty smile on his face and chirping in a tone as bright as possible, "Well then, Miss McMahon, this book is yours."   
Stephanie shrugged, and placed her new book in her basket, as the shopkeeper inwardly prayed, _Please don't tell your father about the fine, please don't tell your father about the fine, please don't tell your father about the fine..._Steph began to stroll out of the store, and the shopkeeper relaxed.   
"Oh, and by the way." The young woman paused, and turned around right as she was about to head out of the building. "I'm sure Daddy will be interested to hear about your generosity."   
The poor man nearly fell down. _Oh, well, he sighed to himself, I was going to retire in just a few years, anyway..._

As the pink early-morning skies gave way to the clear azure that signaled midday, a flock of geese could be spotted circling around the fluffy white clouds in a near-perfect V formation. As the geese flew about, minding their own business, a loud gunshot rang out, and one of the large birds promptly faltered and began a downwards spin, having been hit by the bullet. Meanwhile, on the ground below, a short, skinny man, obviously playing the role of sidekick and whom, judging from the greasy hair and goofy polka-dotted bandanna, we could all tell was X-Pac, held out a large sack expectantly, waiting for the goose to plop nicely into it. However, due to the fact that just about everybody hated X-Pac--and that includes dead geese--the fat bird landed on the spot right next to X-Pac and his sack, creating a cloud of dirt and dust. X-Pac coughed irritably, then yanked the dead goose, resisting the urge to throttle it before stuffing it grumpily into the bag and stalking off to the man who had shot the bird.   
"Wow, Hunter, that was some shot!" X-Pac squealed in the typical sidekick admiring way, tottling over to a tall, bearded man with a blonde ponytail. Hunter Hearst Helmsley, aka Triple H, blew away the smoke circling the tip of his hunting rifle, before pausing to check his reflection in a conveniently nearby mirror and boasting proudly, "I know-uh, because I am the Game-uh, and I am that damn good-uh!"   
"No game--um, prey--can escape from you, Hunter," X-Pac chirped admiringly. He tee-heed, before declaring, "As a matter of fact, no chick can, either."   
Hunter stopped kissing his biceps for a minute, before turning around and saying, "You're right-uh, and right now-uh, I've got my eyes-uh, on that young lady-uh."   
X-Pac, after deciphering what Hunter had just said, turned to look in the direction his idol was gazing at, and a frown began to knit his eyebrows.   
"Her?" he demanded incredulously, pointing at a rather pissed off looking Stephanie McMahon, haughtily stalking back toward her palatial estate and rudely jabbing people out of her way.   
"Yes-uh, because she's the best-uh--Stephanie McMahon-uh is both beautiful and rich-uh, and that makes her the best-uh, and Hunter Hearst Helmsley deserves the best-uh," Hunter declared. X-Pac frowned.   
"Maybe, but isn't she kind of...um...high maintenance?" he asked, choosing his words carefully and wincing as Stephanie screeched at some poor commoner.   
"Perhaps-uh, but she's still the best-uh, and Hunter Hearst Helmsley only settles for the best-uh," Hunter reminded him.   
"That and she's got a billion bucks, right?" X-Pac guessed.   
"Well, yeah," Hunter admitted, speaking normally for a change, then struck a manly muscle pose. A few minutes passed. Stephanie McMahon strutted haughtily past the two men, not giving them the light of day. Hunter blinked, shocked that a girl hadn't fallen gibbering at his feet--especially when he had struck one of his muscle poses--the fact that he and his band of degenerates had raised plenty of hell at the McMahons' billion-dollar corporation never once coming into mind. After a few minutes of gazing openmouthed at Stephanie's retreating back, Hunter quickly shut his jaw and scrambled to follow her, only to find himself plastered against the side of a passing Amish horse buggy.   
"Out of my way-uh!" the irritated blonde man roared, before coming to the oh so brilliant conclusion that yelling at a horse buggy wasn't going to get him anywhere and circling around the wagon in an effort to chase after Stephanie. Hunter pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the outraged cries of the all the people he'd elbowed aside, before deciding that he didn't have the time nor the patience to bully around a bunch of townsfolk into letting him pass and promptly scaling the wall of the nearest house. Hunter then began rooftop-hopping, leaping from house to house in an effort to catch up to Stephanie. 

Stephanie tottered on in her high-heeled, open-toed sandals, deciding that she couldn't get away fast enough from these lowly non-billionaires and their seeming obsession with staring at a McMahon whenever one came into town. The gates to the magnificent McMahon estate were in view when she heard a screech, followed by the sound of something heavy falling through the air, and ending in a final loud thump. Stephanie blinked as the dust cloud sprang up around her, coughing irritably before realizing that the one who'd screeched, fallen heavily through the air, and landed with a loud thump was none other than X-Pac, who was crumpled on the ground a few feet in front of her in a rather painful-looking tangle of limbs. A rustling sound signaled the descent of another, before Hunter leapt down, using X-Pac's twisted body to cushion his landing.   
"Thank you very much-uh, for understanding that I couldn't get my boots dirty-uh," Hunter announced graciously.   
"No problem, boss," X-Pac croaked feebly from underneath one of Hunter's black leather boots. 

Stephanie glared at the two men in distaste: they were both former members of the now defunct Degeneration-X--a group of degenerates that had raised more hell at WWF, Inc. than she cared to remember.   
"Out of my way, you band of cretins, or I'll tell Daddy on you," she growled, and attempted to strut past the duo. Hunter, who'd been busy checking to make sure that he hadn't gotten his boots dirty, quickly leapt off of X-Pac (much to the latter's relief) and hurried to block Stephanie's path. Placing an elbow casually against her shoulder, he said as suavely as possible, "Good morning, Stephanie." The youngest McMahon glanced down at his elbow in distaste.   
"Good morning, Hunter," she gritted out in a clipped tone, and hurried to push past him and his expensive black leather boots. Hunter, however, had other plans for her.   
"Hey-uh, you picked up a book-uh," he said, and before Stephanie had a chance to protest he'd snatched the copy away from her hands.   
"Give that back!" Stephanie screeched, while Hunter read over the title and absently rubbed his sore ear--the one which had been closest to Stephanie when she'd trilled her protest.   
_"Manipulating for Dummies?" _Hunter scoffed. "Stephanie-uh, you should know-uh, that those Dummy Series are a bunch of crap-uh. If you want a real master at manipulation-uh, you should learn from the best-uh--namely, me-uh!"   
Stephanie scowled, and crossed her arms, glaring at Hunter and holding out her hand in a gesture for him to return her book.   
"You are truly a degenerate, Mr. Helmsley," she muttered in a rather disdainful tone. Hunter took that as a compliment.   
"Why, thank you," he said, looking rather proud. "Why don't we discuss-uh what a degenerate-uh I am at the DX bar-uh?"   
Stephanie huffed, and snatched her book away from Hunter, turning around to stomp away.   
"No thank you, Hunter. Daddy only wants me to date nice people, like Rob Van Dam," she informed him haughtily. At hearing that particular sentence, X-Pac, who'd gotten himself untangled by then, stood up and began to snicker.   
"You still listen to that old, wrinkled, toupee-wearing pervert? He can fire people left and right, and yet he can't even keep a secret affair from his wife!" he scoffed, and laughed heartily along with Hunter.   
"Don't you two degenerates dare talk that way about my daddy!" an enraged Stephanie screeched. Hunter quickly stopped his guffaws, partly because he wanted to be on her good side, mostly because her high-pitched shrill had given him strong enough of an headache to make him forget what was it that X-Pac had said that was so funny.   
"Yah, don't you dare-uh, talk that way about my--uh, I mean, her daddy-uh," Hunter spoke up in defense of Stephanie's father, and quickly smacked X-Pac upside the head so hard that it knocked the poor sidekick onto his face and into a puddle conveniently located in the spot directly in front of him.   
"For your information, my daddy happens to be a respectable, self-made billionaire who treats his employees with as much care and respect as he would his own children--" Stephanie began to say, when all three heard the distinct voice of Vince McMahon bellow, "You're fired!" Stephanie jumped up and down in glee, wondering who it was that her daddy had fired this time, and rushed off to make sure she got in her share of humiliating the fired employee as well, while Hunter and X-Pac just stared after her.   
"Um, boss, are you sure you still want her...?" X-Pac asked in a tiny voice. Hunter stopped staring after Stephanie's retreating back long enough to answer.   
"She's the best girl in this place-uh," he reminded his sidekick. X-Pac sighed.   
"And the richest," he muttered pointedly.   
"That too," Hunter replied. 

Stephanie hurried through the gates and into the mansion, rushing down the hallways to greet her father. She found Vince McMahon sitting in the library, face red and hair all riled up, wearing his smug I-just-fired-someone-so-ha expression. He was sitting in one of the expensive black leather couches, staring into the fireplace and sipping brandy from a glass.   
"Daddy! Who did you just fire?" Stephanie asked expectantly. Her father waved his hand carelessly in the air.   
"Oh, just the butler. I fired him three days before he was set to retire, you know," he told his daughter, who immediately broke into a gleeful grin upon hearing his words. "Anyway, Steph, I've got more important news."   
Stephanie eagerly scooted over next to her father, and listened in thoughtful silence as Mr. McMahon explained how the biggest rival company to WWF, Inc., which happened to be called WCW, Inc., had just gone out of business and was up for sale. He already had all the documents drawn up, and all Mr. McMahon had to do was head down to WCW Headquarters and sign them, finalizing the deal. The two McMahons gloated together for a while, before Stephanie remembered the title of her brother Shane's latest book, and quickly told her father about it, suggesting that he better hurry on down to WCW Headquarters--and fast.   
"You're right, Steph, you're right," Mr. McMahon agreed, and stood up while his daughter put on his suit coat for him. "Now, I can trust you to keep the house in order while I'm gone, right?"   
"Of course, Daddy," Stephanie told him. "Now you just hurry on down there to WCW Headquarters and finalize that deal!"   
"All right, then," Mr. McMahon said, then, in a more hearty tone, boasted, "I'm going to buy WCW!" 


	3. Chapter Two

Mr. McMahon shifted uncomfortably on his mount, grumbling silently to himself about the fact that his limousine hadn't been fixed earlier. He made a mental note to fire the mechanic as soon as he got back home from purchasing WCW, and then glared down at Foley, the horse, who was trotting along the forest path at a leisurely pace. Sparing a brief, impatient glance at his watch, Mr. McMahon noted that at this pace he would be lucky if he got to WCW Headquarters by midnoon the next day, and growled down at the shaggy horse, "Foley, you're fired unless you speed up this very minute!" With a knowing whinny, mainly because his owner had threatened to fire him numerous times before, Foley quickly sped up his pace to a satisfying trot. Mr. McMahon seemed content with the speed--for the time being, at least--and concentrated on the map in his hands, and not on the road. Thus, it wasn't a big surprise when, half an hour later, the duo wound up being hopelessly and completely lost. Mr. McMahon, being the fair employer that he was, naturally blamed it all on Foley.   
"...And as soon as we get home, Foley, YOU'RE FIRED!!!" the shrewd businessman thundered, as his horse gave a frightened whinny, more scared of the prospect of his boss bellowing, "YOU'RE FIRED!!!" at him throughought the whole trip to WCW Headquarters than by the prospect of being actually fired itself. 

Fifteen minutes passed, with Mr. McMahon bellowing at the poor horse, Foley, before the tall, iron-wrought gates of what appeared to be a dark and foreboding castle came into view. Man and horse gave dual sighs of relief, man because a castle symbolized other people and, maybe even a car, horse because he knew that his boss wouldn't be yelling about how he was fired for at the very least a couple of hours. However, just as soon as they were approaching the castle gates, the distinct chilling sound of wolves howling into the moon could be picked up, and Foley instinctively stiffened. Mr. McMahon, however, remained calm--or at least, he appeared to be calm.   
"Foley, ignore the wolves and just head straight to the castle," he ordered; however Foley was too frightened and disoriented for a few moments, and dawdled around, backing slowly toward the castle gates. Mr. McMahon grew impatient, and yelled, "Goddamn it, Foley, hurry up and obey my command or YOU'RE FIRED!!!" Unfortunately for Mr. McMahon, the last, thunderous part of his sentence was just the straw that broke the camel (horse's?) back, as Foley gave a final high-pitched whinny at the unexpected loud sound and took off, dumping Mr. McMahon off his back and speeding off into the forest. And indignant Mr. McMahon toppled unceremoniously off his mount, and sat there screaming, "FOLEY, YOU'RE FIRED!!!" at the now tiny speck that was his _former_ horse, before the wolves howling snapped some common sense into him. Mr. McMahon quickly stood up, dusted himself off, and strutted across the bridge and into the castle as though he owned the place. 

"Hello?" he called out into the dark, cavernous five-story atrium, glancing around at the numerous hallways that branched out from the atrium and led to a multitude of French double doors. Mr. McMahon thought he detected shuffling sounds, but when he turned to where he'd heard the small noises, all he saw were a small clock and a three-pronged candelabra. Shrugging, Mr. McMahon glanced away...but then heard the same scuffling sounds again.   
"Hello? Is anybody here?" he called out again. This time, he thought he detected very faint words being exchanged.   
"Like, dude, just totally chill out and he'll so go away," a tiny little Canadian valley boy voice spoke up.   
"I so totally understand, Edge. We'll just sit tight and wait for the reekazoid to split," a second tiny little Canadian valley boy voice spoke up. Mr. McMahon frowned, hearing himself being referred to as a 'reekazoid'--he had no idea what that word meant, but whatever it was, he was sure it couldn't be too flattering.   
"I don't think you understand, whoever you are," he called out boldly. "I'm Vince McMahon, damn it! If you don't show me the respect I deserve, I'll arrange to have you FIRED!!!"   
Mr. McMahon thought he heard tiny little Canadian valley boy shudders.   
"Eep! Fired, Edge? That so totally reeks of stinktitude!" the second little voice squeaked out, sounding scared.   
"Us two, fired? That's so totally heinosity!" the first little voice chirped indignantly. "We won't get fired, we reek of awesomeness, remember?"   
"Yes, well, if you two don't show yourselves, you'll just reek!" Mr. McMahon threatened. "Because I have the power and the influence to fire both your asses!"   
"Bro, I'm scared," the second person admitted in a tiny voice. "I so totally don't deserve to get fired, especially not by that old reekazoid!"   
"Christian," the first vocie--whom Christian had referred to as Edge--"we're not gonna get fired."   
"Yes, well, since you two are too cowardly to show yourselves, I guess I'll just spend the night here until I can get to WCW, Inc. Headquarters and use their phone to fire first Mick Foley, then you two's sorry asses!"   
"Aw, dude, that so totally reeks of heinosity!" Christian grumbled.   
"Yeah, like, I don't want to get out the extra bedsheets and everything," Edge agreed. "I mean, it's not like _he_ can turn us back to normal."   
"I so totally agree with you," Christian said sagely. "That enchantress reekette told us we needed a hot chick to break the spell, not an old chick!"   
"I resent that, and for calling me an 'old chick', YOU'RE BOTH FIRED!!!" Mr. McMahon thundered, scaring Edge and Christian into submission.   
"Okay, okay! Like, chill out, dude, you can totally stay with us for the night," Edge conceded.   
"Yeah, and if you want us to show ourselves, then fine!" Christian grumbled. Mr. McMahon leaned back, satisfied at having his way yet again, and heard tiny scuffling and grumbling. Finally, two voices chorused in unison, "Dude, we are so totally over here!" Mr. McMahon turned around...and promptly found himself facing the clock and the candelabra he had spotted earlier. Upon closer look, both common household items sported long, Canadian valley boy blonde hair and huge, goofy glasses. Seeing the two common household items, moving around and chattering in Canadian valley boy voices, Mr. McMahon promptly gave a girlie scream and fainted dead away. Before he blacked out, he distinctively heard one of the two items--Edge, the clock, he believed--remark, "Dude, that reekazoid so totally screams like a girl!" 

Mr. McMahon regained consciousness to find two huge, cheerful blue eyes staring right at him. Yelping in surprise, the shrewd business man nearly toppled out of his comfy, wine-red velvet seat...and then noticed that he was sitting on a comfy, wine-red velvet seat. Glancing around, he noticed the clock and the candelabra from earlier--Edge the clock and Christian the candelabra--but then realized that the two huge eyes belonged to a new household item: a round, overly cheerful white-and-pink porcelain teapot. The teapot, which had been staring curiously at him when he was out cold, now noted that Mr. McMahon was conscious again, and started hopping up and down, bubbly with cheerfulness.   
"Ooh, this is so exciting! We finally get a visitor," she--the voice was distinctly female--chirped brightly, looking like she was going to burst with happiness. "I mean, we don't get any visitors at all, and it's such a nice treat when we finally get one, I'm just so excited, we really should tell the prince about this!"   
"Good golly Miss Molly Holly," Christian spoke up. "Will you just totally calm down, reekette?"   
Edge agreed with his brother, nodding his tiny little clock head wisely.   
"He's only going to stay for one night, Miss Molly," he pointed out. "And besides, we don't need an old chick to break the curse, we need a hot chick!"   
Miss Molly Holly, the overly cheerful little pink teapot, pouted, her huge blue eyes beginning to tear over.   
"Aw, you two reekazoids are no fun at all!" she remarked, ignoring the two brothers' indignant screeches about how she was so totally stealing their lingo, which reeked of awesomeness, by the way. Turning to face Mr. McMahon, the little teapot chirped brightly, "Would you like some tea, good sir?"   
Mr. McMahon, still overcome by the day's events, felt like he was going to pass out again. 

At that moment, the double doors slammed open, and a huge, bulking dark shape cloaked in shadows filled the doorway. The menacing hulk seemed to glower down at the smaller objects, then opened his mouth and snapped, "Edge, Christian, I thought I told you two to keep it down! How am I supposed to spend any quality time with my gold medals with you two reekazoids screaming around down here--Hey! A visitor! Oh, this is so cool, finally, someone new with which to share my stories about my gold medal victories!"   
The voice, which sounded surprisingly youthful considering the gigantic shape, quickly barged out of the shadows and into clear view. Prince Kurt Angle, in his beast form and clutching an array of gold medals in his furry, beastly hands, looked down at Mr. McMahon, showing plenty of great big white teeth which were supposed to resemble a goofy smile, and began to ramble.   
"It was the summer of, oh, I think, five years ago, and I was wrestling this big, ugly dude with some name I can't pronounce for the gold," he began to say. Mr. McMahon took one good look at Prince Kurt, and promptly fainted dead away. 

**Two Hours Later...**

"...and then, when it seemed like my opponent had the match won, I quickly went for a fireman's carry, which is a move in which..." Prince Kurt stopped rambling for a minute to catch a breath of air, and promptly noticed Mr. McMahon passed out on his red carpet. "Oh. Ohhh. Aw, great, he fell asleep too!" Prince Kurt stretched, and stopped rambling on and on about his gold medal matches, to the very thankful and appreciative three enchanted household items, then said, "Hmm, Miss Molly, why don't you and Edge and Christian get this nice man to one of the guest rooms? That way he and I can both rest, and I'll continue telling him about my stunning medal victory tomorrow morning."   
Miss Molly, all too happy to comply, replied in her usual cheerful way, "Oh, yippee! We're gonna have a slumber party!" 

* * *

Back in the outskirts of Connecticut, Hunter and his loyal sidekick X-Pac pulled away the tree branches to spy on--erm, casually observe--the magnificent estate in which Stephanie McMahon resided. X-Pac giggled like a little schoolgirl, and chirped, "Heh, this is little Miss McMahon's lucky day, isn't it?" Hunter simply nodded, and affirmed with a, "Yes-uh, this is the day-uh in which Stephanie McMahon's dreams come true-uh," then left, accidentally (or, perhaps even, not-so-accidentally) smacking X-Pac squarely across the teeth with a tree branch on the way. Hunter turned around and headed a couple of feet back, standing proudly to look at the expensive outdoor wedding reception set up only a few yards from the McMahon mansion. The town itself seemed to have emptied out, as its citizens crowded the garden party, all looking expectantly at the groom, who had obviously dressed up for his own wedding--Hunter was wearing a carnation on his black leather jacket, and had traded in his ripped, stonewashed blue jeans for a pair of non-ripped, slightly less stonewashed blue jeans.   
"Now-uh I'd like thank all of you-uh for coming to my wedding-uh," the groom began grandly. He then winked, and quipped, "But of course-uh, first I'll have to see-uh if the lucky bride accepts-uh."   
The party guests laughed at his joke as if it were the funniest thing they'd ever heard, as Hunter turned to X-Pac and started to say, "When Steph and I come out-uh..."   
His sidekick perked up, and shrilled eagerly, "Ooh, ooh, I know, I know! I start the music!" He then promptly turned around and began waving a little stick in the air, as the band obediently struck up a British heavy metal number which bore the distinct flair of Motorhead. Hunter shrugged when he heard his 'wedding song', then decided that it would have to do, before smacking X-Pac across the head to tell him to knock it off until he and Stephanie gallantly walked out the magnificent estate's doors. X-Pac, who'd been sent sprawling face-first onto yet another ditch conveniently located right in front of him, gurgled, "Sorry, boss." 

Inside the palatial mansion, Stephanie was curled up in front of the fireplace, reading intently through her new book, _Manipulating for Dummies. _She heard a series of knocks on the front door, and scowled, none too happy about being interrupted right when she was getting to the good part, something about marrying a former degenerate and turning on one's own father. Sighing noisily, Stephanie reluctantly closed the book an strutted over to the front door, flinging it open in a single motion and snapping, "What?!"   
Hunter Hearst Helmsley stood at her door, wearing some kind of big white flower on his lapel.   
"Calm down, Stone Cold-uh," he quipped, ignoring the dark thunderclouds that had started to form in Stephanie's icy blue eyes. And then, without bothering to wait to be invited in, Hunter quickly stepped inside, not bothering to take off his expensive black leather boots despite Stephanie's screeched protests.   
"Stephanie-uh, I have come to make your dreams come true-uh," Hunter drawled, as suavely as possible. Stephanie huffed.   
"And what do you know about my dreams, Mr. Helmsley?" she demanded haughtily, eyeing him as if though he were lower on the food chain than a bacteria. Hunter grinned, amused by the tone of her voice, and flew into his ad pitch.   
"Picture this-uh, Steph: My beautiful bride and I living in her mansion-uh, her father kicked out to freeze in the streets-uh, my latest kill roasting in the fire-uh, while our beautiful little children play with the dogs-uh. We'll have a bunch of them-uh."   
Stephanie wrinkled her nose, picturing the scene all too clearly in her mind.   
"Roadkill?" she guessed, making a disgusted face at the mental image of Hunter's roadkill spinning around over a fireplace. Hunter smirked, then suddenly realized that Stephanie had gotten the wrong image and said indignantly, "No, not roadkill! Beautiful little children-uh! Like me-uh! Like you-uh, Steph!"   
"Oh," Stephanie mumbled. Then, as the full meaning of what he'd said settled in, she murmured knowingly, "Ohhh."   
Hunter smirked as Stephanie appeared to have gotten the hint, then asked flirtatiously, "And do you know-uh who that lucky girl will be-uh?"   
Stephanie tittered nervously, as she slowly inched toward the main door--her nearest exit--while trying to buy some time.   
"Eh...Trish Stratus?" she guessed, playing stupid. Hunter was smirking and nodding, saying, "You're absolutely right-uh, Stephanie, it's--TRISH STRATUS?!" he bellowed, when he realized that Stephanie had chosen a random name, and slammed both hands against the door, cornering Steph. "Of course it's not Trish-uh! That lucky girl is you-uh!"   
Stephanie shot him a haughty look.   
"Hunter, get a clue if you think I'm going to marry a degenerate like you and have _children _of all things!"And with that, she slammed the doors wide open. Hunter, already tilting toward the door, found himself leaning against thin air and promptly lost his balance, falling forward and on top of X-Pac, who was still collapsed in the ditch of mud. Hunter stood up, not a single hair out of place thanks to his sidekick breaking his fall, and glared towards the general direction of the McMahon estate. He was about to give the place the finger, when X-Pac stupidly chose that time to get up.   
"Eh...how did it go, boss?" he asked tentatively. Furiously whirling around so fast that he nearly lost his balance, Hunter forgot about giving the McMahon home the finger and grabbed X-Pac by the throat, nearly throttling him in his anger.   
"One way or the other-uh, I _will_ have Stephanie McMahon as my bride-uh!" he growled, baring his teeth at his terrified little sidekick, and then promptly threw X-Pac back into the ditch of mud, stalking off to hatch an evil scheme. 

A good two hours later, the double doors to the McMahon mansion tentatively cracked open a couple of inches. Stephanie hesitantly poked her head out the door, cautiously glancing left and right to make sure that Hunter, his band of degenerates, and the villagers with their garden party had all left.   
"Are they gone?" she murmured, to no one in particular, before she was satisfied that Hunter had, indeed, left, and walked out of the house.   
"I can't believe the nerve of that degenerate," Stephanie fumed. "Where the hell did he find the nerve to ask me to marry him and have children?! I'm Stephanie McMahon, damn it! If he thinks that I'm going to let something grow inside of me and turn my boobs into a free restaurant for some embryo freak, then he's got another thing going!"   
Stephanie huffed her disbelief at Hunter's nerves, all the while stomping through the garden, before realizing that she would be getting mud all over her nice, brand new designer sandals and slowing her pace down to an indignant strut.   
"But then again, I'm not surprised at the way Hunter behaved, seeing as how all the men in this place are a bunch of goons," Stephanie mused. She stopped walking for a while, and began to count the goons...erm, men...that she had been involved with in any manner.   
"Let's see," she murmured. "There's that insolent bastard Chris Jericho--ugh, I hate the way he's always insulting me! Then there's Test--I can't believe I actually dated him, yuck! Talk about in desperate need for braces! And I guess Rob Van Dam is okay...except that he's so laid-back and indifferent that I don't think I can buy his attention! And I hate his thumbs thing, anyway! I'm always getting poked in the eye whenever we...um...do that _thing_ that all good friends and nothing more do!" 

As Stephanie stormed around the garden, spouting insults at all the men she had ever dated or had ever considered dating and declaring how she wanted adventure in her life and new men to date, a shrill, high-pitched whining broke into her train of thoughts. Startled, the youngest member of the McMahon family stopped complaining about her former boyfriends and looked up, to see a big, furry horse making a mad dash toward the McMahon Estate.   
"Oh, it's just Foley," she muttered, already having lost interest, and returned to grumbling about how pathetic all the men she had ever dated were. As Foley continued his one-horse stampede, Stephanie suddenly noticed something, and froze in mid-insult about Chris Jericho.   
"Hey!" she screeched, and the very shrillness of her holler was enough to make Foley stop his mad stampede. Dazed, disoriented, and beginning to suffer from a terrible earache, the poor horse stumbled about, and right in front of a pissed-looking Stephanie McMahon.   
"Where the hell is Daddy?" the young woman accused the horse in a high-pitched whine. Foley remembered how he had conveniently dumped Vince McMahon at the castle gates and rushed back home so that he wouldn't have to listen to his owner yell, "YOU'RE FIRED!!!" at him, and looked down guiltily, suddenly becoming absolutely fascinated by the patch of dirt in front of his hooved feet. Stephanie saw the horse avert his eyes, and placed her hands on her hips, scowling at him and resisting the urge to bitch slap the poor animal. Pulling him by the reigns and forcing him to make eye contact with her, Stephanie gritted out, "Foley, you better take me to my daddy...or else, _you're fired!" _The horse gave an irritated snort, before reluctantly complying. 


	4. Chapter Three

Stephanie looked in distaste at the dark, ominous, five-story castle looming overhead, and glared down accusingly at Foley, who was plodding along the forest path at a grudging pace.   
_"This_ is where you took Daddy?" She shook her head in distaste. "Foley, as soon as Daddy and I get home, you can guarantee on your getting fired."   
Foley snorted irritably, before seemingly having decided that retirement wasn't such a bad thing, and trotted on, coming to a slow stop at the castle gates. Stephanie hopped off, and tied the horse to a nearby tree by his reigns to make sure he didn't try to escape and leave her and Mr. McMahon stranded at the castle. Tightening her black trench coat around her, Stephanie hesitantly gave a light push on the shining iron-wrought gates. The twin metallic doors opened easily, creaking softly at the hinges. Stephanie stepped inside, closing the gates with a clang and heading toward the massive double doors. She opened them and gingerly peeked inside.   
"Daddy?" she asked, and her voice echoed off the walls of the cavernous five-story atrium. 

Somewhere off in the castle, Edge the clock and Christian the candelabra were arguing none too softly, hurling insults at each other in heated little Canadian valley boy voices.   
"Dude, this was so totally your fault!" Edge hissed, glaring at his younger brother, who huffed indignantly in return.   
"My fault?" he hissed. "You reekazoid, how is it my fault that the old chick is now living with us?"   
"Well, for once thing, you are totally so the one who came up with the plan that so reeked of stinktitude to reveal ourselves!" Edge snapped.   
"Yeah, well...you were the one who told Miss Molly about the old reekazoid," Christian defended himself. "If she hadn't been the one who totally made so much noise..."   
Meanwhile, Miss Molly Holly the jolly pot pouted at the two arguing brothers, her giant blue eyes tearing over.   
"You shouldn't be fighting," she scolded. "After all, aren't we just like one big happy dysfunctional family?"   
"Dude, you are so right." Edge's little clock eyes began to narrow, as he apparently had an epiphany. "Miss Molly was the one who so totally made all the noise, and thus alerted Prince Kurt about the old reekazoid!"   
The two brothers turned around and glared at a common enemy in Miss Molly, and one could be sure that they had just bought themselves a ringside ticket to enchanted common household items violence, when a slim silhouette passed by the room and a female voice called out hesitantly, "Daddy?"   
All three household items froze, before Edge and Christian quickly scuttled over to the door and peeked out at the hallway, to find themselves staring at the disappearing back of what was obviously a young woman.   
"Dude! It's so totally a hot chick!" Christian whistled. Miss Molly, from her perch on the kitchen table, began to frown.   
"How can you tell whether it's a beautiful girl or not when you can only see her back?" she asked logically. Edge glared back at her.   
"Yeah, well, she sounds hot, you reekette," he snapped. Unfortunately for him, Stephanie chose that moment to whiningly screech, "Daddy, if you're not here, can't you at least have the courtesy to come out and tell me so?!"   
Miss Molly winced, and wished that she had a pair of hands so she could rub the place where her ears would have been. Edge shot her a defensive look, and sputtered, "Well, you don't sound so hot yourself when you yell, so nyah!" The little pink teapot sitting on the table glanced down at the blonde clock, then sighed and asked, "Shouldn't you be hatching up schemes to have her break the curse?"   
Edge and Christian quickly stopped fawning over the tiny dot that was Stephanie, coughed and cleared their little household item throats, before scurrying off. 

Stephanie was getting tired of wandering around the gigantic castle, and was seriously beginning to wonder whether Foley the horse had led her to the wrong place.   
"Daddy?" she called out again, while inwardly hatching all sorts of evil schemes to fire Foley as nastily as possible. As soon as the word left her mouth, a shuffling noise was heard behind her, and Stephanie paused. Turning around, she thought she saw a speck of light slowly disappearing up a flight of stairs.   
"Daddy?" she called out, questioningly, before hurrying to chase after the dot of light. Stephanie sprinted up the stairway, ignoring the harmless-looking candelabra perched on an ornate antique table in front of a rosewood door, and murmured, "Daddy?" Silence was her reply. Then, a series of scuffling noises, before a suspiciously Canadian valley boyish voice coughed noisily and replied, "Like, hot chick who's supposed to be my daughter, I am so totally inside this room." Stephanie scrunched up her nose, looking confused and just a tad suspicious, before demanding shrilly, "Are you sure you're my daddy? You don't sound like him at all!" More shuffling sounds, before the same voice replied, "Uh...that's because I've got a cold that so reeks of stinktitude."   
"O-kay," Stephanie played along, before placing one slim, well-manicured hand on the shiny gold doorknob. "So, are you sure you're behind this door?"   
"You reekette, how many times do I have to tell you, I totally so am behind this door!" the suspiciously Canadian valley boy voice snapped impatiently. Stephanie pouted.   
"All right, Daddy," she sighed, and hesitantly opened the door. 

An exquisitely furnished bedroom greeted Stephanie's wide blue eyes. The decor was mainly dark maroon, with hints of rosewood here and there. Amidst the expensive antique furniture and glass pedestals stood a huge redwood canopy bed with dark crimson covers, and lying on top of the canopy bed, flat out cold and with a line of unsightly drool coming out of his mouth from either extreme boredom or extreme fright (or perhaps both) was Vince McMahon. Stephanie's mouth dropped open, and she screeched out in shock, _"Daddy!"_ Ignoring the faint tortured screams of Canadian valley boys in the background, Stephanie rushed over to her father, and trilled, "Daddy!" again. As the mournful howls of nearby canines began to spring up, Stephanie noted in shock that her screeches had failed to awaken her father. _He must have had quite a scare, _she noted idly to herself, before grabbing her father's shoulders and beginning to shake him like a rag doll, all the while screeching, "Daddy!" at the top of her lungs. No human being could possibly stand that high-pitched shrill for too long, and Vince McMahon was no different. In a matter of seconds, Stephanie's daddy had awakened, with a pounding headache and what he was sure a pair of shattered eardrums.   
"Steph...Stephanie, I'm okay," he growled, batting his daughter's hands off his shoulders to prevent her from shaking him around like that. Stephanie blessedly stopped screeching, and as the wolf howls began to fade, she demanded, "Daddy, what are you doing in bed like this?" Her eyes narrowed, as she asked dangerously, "This isn't some sort of rendezvous with that little slut Trish Stratus, is it?" Mr. McMahon tee heed nervously under his daughter's menacing glare, before hasting to assure her that it was, indeed, most definitely _not_ a rendezvous with Trish.   
"Don't worry, Steph, I really was on my way to buy WCW, before that retched horse's ass Foley dumped me in this hellhole," Mr. McMahon said, seeming to have regained his confidence and his pompous air.   
Stephanie looked relieved for a moment, before helping her father up and off of the canopy bed.   
"Well then, let's hurry up and get out of this castle," she said, ignoring the scuttling noise and the little three-pronged candelabra that dashed right past the doorway and down a flight of stairs. Mr. McMahon shakily got on his feet, as his daughter helped him into a standing position.   
"By the way, Steph, I feel it's only necessary to warn you about the master of this castle," he began to say. Stephanie glanced around at the dark antique furniture.   
"You mean someone's living here?" she wanted to know. "Because if they are, then I want to give them some decorating tips."   
"Uh...I don't really think that's such a wise idea." Mr. McMahon frowned as they neared the doorway. Stephanie shot him a questioning look.   
"Why not?" she demanded. 

There was the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs, before a youthful male voice squealed excitedly, "Ooh, another visitor! Goody, somebody else to tell my story of my stunning gold medal victories to!"   
Mr. McMahon grimaced in dismay upon hearing the frighteningly familiar voice.   
"Well, there's one reason right there," he muttered. Stephanie shot a quizzical look at her father, before turning around...and finding herself face-to-face with a giant, furry beast who, by the way, was showing quite a few very sharp, very white teeth. Stephanie nearly dumped her father unceremoniously onto the red carpet, as she pressed her hands to her cheeks and screamed out, "Ahhhh!" The beastly entity, who had actually been smiling goofily rather than baring his teeth at the duo, scrunched up his face and feebly covered his ears, apparently not used to having women screech so loudly to his face. After a while, Stephanie stopped screeching, and the beastly master of the castle relaxed his posture. Steph then promptly sprinted past him, tottering clumsily on the thin high heels of her open-toed designer sandals. She would have tripped sooner or later, had a trio of enchanted household items not appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Stephanie, overcome by her curiosity as to how these harmless-looking household items could walk around so freely, came to a screeching halt (no pun intended ^_^) and stared at the three objects with wide blue eyes.   
"Please wait just one minute, Miss," the object in the middle--a white-and-pink porcelain teapot with a distinctively female voice--pleaded cheerfully, failing to lose her overly bright smile even when she was begging. Stephanie arched one eyebrow, and appeared as if she were about to start screeching again, when, thankfully, the little teapot began speaking again.   
"We have a proposition to make, and we just want you to hear us out before you begin speaking," the porcelain pot offered. Stephanie furrowed her eyebrows, as if deciding whether or not to listen to this talking teapot, before giving in and shrugging to signal for the little household item to continue.   
"Well, um, all we're asking is that--" the teapot started to say, when the candelabra cut in.   
"You stay with us for a year in exchange for the old chick--um, I mean, your father--and so fall in love with Prince Kurt," he--the candelabra sported a Canadian valley boy voice--chimed cheekily.   
"Yeah, stay with us, it will so totally reek of awesomeness," the clock beside him, also bearing a Canadian valley boy voice, chirped brightly. Stephanie looked uncertain, when the beast thing from before, who hadn't uttered a word until then, spoke up.   
"Wait just a frickin' minute," he protested. "You two want me to put up with that voice?!"   
The little teapot turned around, pouting, and pointed out, "But you get to tell your stories of all those gold medal matches to someone newer and prettier than all of us here." The beast prince scrunched up his nose, apparently thinking it through, while Stephanie declared haughtily, "If you three losers actually think I'm going to fall in love with a...a _thing_ like that, then you've got another thing coming. I'll have you know, I am a highly desirable and respected young woman back home, and I've got guys lined up around the block asking for my hand in marriage!" She conveniently forgot to mention that she found all of her potential suitors stupid and immature, and that just that morning she'd been saying how she wanted a change in her life and in the guys she dated.   
"Dudette, you so totally reek of heinosity if you think our Prince Kurt isn't good enough for you," the clock spoke up defensively, while said prince was still busy deciphering who that pretty young woman with the most definitely _un_pretty voice was referring to as a 'thing'. Stephanie turned up her nose at the little enchanted object.   
"Well I'm leaving this place with my daddy and you can't stop me, and if you try to, I'll have Daddy's lawyers swarming up your ass to make sure that all of you get fired!" she threatened, and started to push past the group of magical household items.   
"Wait!" the little white-and-pink teapot, apparently the only female member of the group, suddenly spoke up. Stephanie stopped her strut and glanced back impatiently, looking down on the servant pot with irritated blue eyes. The little teapot had a thoughtful expression in her big friendly eyes.   
"Don't you realize what could happen if you stay here?" she asked. "I mean, you would be a princess. You'd have bragging rights to having lived with a multi-time gold medalist, and you can buy everything your heart ever desired...without having to worry about, say, a sibling taking all the attention away from you."   
The haughty, irritable look in Stephanie's features disappeared, to be replaced with a thoughtful frown.   
"Think about it," the little pink teapot urged. Stephanie did think about it, for several minutes in fact, and when she'd finally made her decision, she turned around to her father and booted him off down the stairs.   
"See you in a year, Daddy!" she called down cheerfully. "Next time we meet, you'd better make sure to call me Princess Stephanie!"   
Standing a few feet behind her, the three enchanted household items let out immense sighs of relief in unison. Poised a few feet back from them, Prince Kurt had finally seemed to have figured out who Stephanie was calling a 'thing'.   
"Oh! Now I get it...Hey!" he huffed, crossing his arms and looking like he was about to stick his tongue out childishly at Stephanie's back. 

Meanwhile, Stephanie turned around, and the three enchanted household items scuffled over to her.   
"Since you're gonna be staying with us for a while," the pink teapot chirped with a bright, friendly smile, "we might as well introduce ourselves to each other. I'm Miss Molly." The clock and the candelabra introduced themselves as Edge and Christian, respectively, and then pointed back to the huffy-looking beast prince and master of the castle and introducing him as Prince Kurt Angle, who, by the way, so totally reeked of awesomeness. Stephanie stood impatiently through the introductions, before finally cutting Edge and Christian off as they were spewing praises about their gold-medalist prince and demanding to know, "Are you going to show me to my room or what? I mean...I don't have to sleep in the same room as that...er, charming prince, do I?"   
Miss Molly giggled.   
"Oh, of course not," she tittered, to Steph's immense relief. "Normally, I'd send Edge and Christian to point out your new bedroom, but since you and Prince Kurt are going to be getting to know each other over the next year, I think it's only fitting that he show you to your new room."   
Stephanie hesitantly turned to face Prince Kurt, looking at him with an expectant expression on her face. Prince Kurt just stupidly stared right back. Several minutes passed. Crickets chirped.   
"What?" the prince wanted to know. Miss Molly nudged his foot, and hissed out of the corner of her mouth, "Show her to her room."   
"Oh. Okay." The prince shrugged, before bouncing off. Stephanie stared after him, and reluctantly followed, heaving a sigh. Miss Molly looked worriedly at Prince Kurt's disappearing back, before calling out, "Prince Kurt, watch out for the--"   
A sudden tripping sound, followed by a girlie scream and a heavy thump resounded across the halls.   
"--stairs," the little pink teapot finished. Glancing over at Christian the candelabra, who was coveniently lit up, she urged, "Go on with the prince!" Christian shrugged his little candle shoulders, before hopping over to guide Prince Kurt. 

A black-and-blue Prince Kurt, his fur all dusty and his navy blue Olympic sweatsuit ripped and torn in several places, throttled the hapless talking candelabra in his hands, screeching at him about why he hadn't warned him about the broken step in the stairway, pausing only to let poor little Christian re-light his candles whenever the flames went off thanks to the beastly prince's throttling. Strutting a few paces after the prince was none other than Stephanie McMahon, who glanced around at the decor in distaste and mentally redecorated each room and hallway that they passed. Finally, the trio arrived in front of a set of French double doors, as Prince Kurt stopped abruptly, causing Stephanie to nearly bump into him.   
"Well, this is your room," Prince Kurt said simply, and threw open the doors. Christian coughed pointedly as Stephanie stepped inside.   
"Tell her about the West Wing," he croaked, mostly from the prince's throttling. Kurt Angle perked up.   
"Oh, yeah," he said. "Um...don't ever go to the West Wing, because...because...because it's um...prohibited," he finished lamely. Stephanie frowned in distaste, she was a McMahon, dammit, and nobody told her what to do. Nobody.   
"Invite her to dinner," Christian urged. Prince Kurt shrugged, then, without thinking twice, said, "I invite you to dinner," and then closed the door right in Stephanie's face as she was about to turn around and ask a question. Stephanie scowled at having been disrespected like this, before swallowing her pride--not to mention her sudden urge to bitch slap the spot where Prince Kurt had been standing--and turning around to survey the room. 

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the outskirts of Connecticut, Hunter Hearst Helmsley sat on a stool in the noisy DX bar, nursing a tall glass of foamy cold beer.   
"I can't believe-uh that Stephanie McMahon-uh rejected me like a mosquito-uh," he growled, slamming both fists down on the polished wooden counter and causing his drink to jump a good couple of inches off the surface. X-Pac, loyal sidekick that he was, stopped ogling all the scantily-clad girls bouncing around the bar and turned to face the bearded blonde man making angry faces into his beer.   
"Aw, boss, no girl's worth this much trouble over," he said. Lowering his voice dramatically, he began choosing girls at random. "What about Ivory?"   
"Too librarian and feminist-uh," Hunter mumbled grumpily.   
"Okay, then." X-Pac picked again. "What about Lita?"   
"Too many tattoos-uh," Hunter griped. X-Pac frowned.   
"This ain't gonna be easy," he muttered to himself. He suddenly perked up. "Ooh, ooh! What about Trish, huh?"   
Hunter looked at him like he had gone crazy.   
"She frickin' slept with Stephanie's father-uh!" he thundered, failing to keep his voice down to a discreet bellow. X-Pac cringed, and rubbed his busted eardrum.   
"Okay, okay," he mumbled. "No need to freak out."   
The duo sat in silence, X-Pac occasionally chugging his beer, Hunter staring moodily into his glass. Suddenly, X-Pac snapped his fingers.   
"I've got it!" he chirped brightly, looking like he'd just come up with the best idea since sliced bread. "Why don't you get back together with Chyna, huh?"   
At this, Hunter nearly freaked out, as he reached over with one hand and grasped X-Pac's neck.   
"I don't want to be in a homosexual relationship with that man beast-uh!" he roared, throttling his poor sidekick in his fury. At the commotion, the bartender leaned over and snapped, "Hey you two, cut it out before I call the cops!" He would have thrown them out of the bar...but the bartender wasn't so stupid he would get into a fight with these two former degenerates. Hunter ignored him and continued strangling X-Pac, before suddenly letting go and throwing his poor sidekick onto the floor.   
"I just want to marry Stephanie McMahon-uh!" he wailed childishly, kicking his feet against his stool. X-Pac strongly suspected that Hunter might start calling for his mommy next unless he didn't do something, so he thought quickly and blurted out, "Heh, you can't get Stephanie McMahon to marry you unless you drug her drinks and wed her at one of those drive-in chapels!" As soon as those words left his mouth, X-Pac instantly cringed and regretted ever having uttered them, knowing that this was no time to provoke Hunter. Then again, was there ever any time to provoke the former Degeneration-X leader? X-Pac squeezed his eyes tightly shut, preparing himself to die a long and particularly painful death, waiting for those fists to start flying...And waited...And waited...And waited... 

When nearly five minutes had passed and X-Pac was still relatively injury-free, the little sidekick hesitantly peeked out from one eye, and noticed that Hunter was frozen in mid-pounce, looking as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head.   
"That's it-uh!" he shouted happily--definitely _not_ the reaction that X-Pac had expected. Turning to his sidekick, Hunter gave him a massive bearhug and roared, "You've just given me an idea-uh on how to wed Stephanie-uh!" X-Pac felt his ribs begin to crack before Hunter finally let go and threw him carelessly down onto the floor.   
"Happy to help, boss," he croaked from his position on the linoleum tiles. 

* * *

Stephanie sat boredly on her huge pink canopy bed, kicking her feet back and forth like a young child and occasionally yawning. There was a series of soft, polite knocks on her doors, and the youngest McMahon called out, "Yeah? Come in!" The French doors opened slightly, allowing the little porcelain teapot from before--Miss Molly, as she had introduced herself--to scuttle cutely into the room.   
"Hi, Miss Stephanie," she chirped brightly, the usual cheerful smile on her little porcelain face. "I just came over to see if you were ready for dinner."   
Stephanie began to frown at the mention of dinner. She followed a very strict diet of the finest and healthiest foods that money could afford, and she wasn't about to let her temporary stay at this castle cause her to gain unwanted pounds.   
"Very well, then, I suppose I'll go down and dine with your Prince Kurt Angle," she sighed, sliding off the bed. "But I'll have you know--"   
"That you're a McMahon, dammit?" Miss Molly guessed, then blushed bright pink at the realization that she had just uttered a *drumroll* swear word! Dun dun dun! Stephanie frowned in confusion, before waving her hands carelessly back and forth in the air.   
"No, no, not that," she muttered. Clearing her throat, she said, "I was going to say that I follow a very strict and nutritious diet of only very healthy gourmet food, and unless your chef is willing to prepare a meal to my liking, I'll be forced to not come down for dinner until my demands are met."   
"Oh, you shouldn't worry about that," Miss Molly assured her. "Our chef is quite familiar with making healthy and nutritious meals, since Prince Kurt also demanded them when he was training for his sports tournaments."   
Stephanie nodded.   
"That's fine," she said. "Now, for dinner, I would like a small plate of freshly tossed garden salad--only fresh green vegetables, and no fried noodles or croutons."   
"That will be fine," Miss Molly chirped brightly.   
"Maybe some French dressing," Stephanie mused thoughtfully. "But only a little bit. Too much cream equals a helluva lot more pounds than I'd like to think about."   
"That will be fine, too," Miss Molly replied cheekily. "Now, about coming down to dinner with the prince--"   
"Oh, and make sure to have cherry tomatoes on my salad," Stephanie cut her off.   
"Cherry tomatoes," Miss Molly replied, somehow still maintaining a bright smile on her cheerful face.   
"And for the main course, I would like the finest swordfish steak you've got," Stephanie went on, oblivious to the words spoken by Miss Molly.   
"Swordfish," the pink teapot echoed. "So, you'll be coming down to dine with Prince Kurt, right--?"   
"Yes, swordfish," Stephanie rambled, ignoring the hapless teapot. "But only if it's fresh."   
"Fresh swordfish steak," Miss Molly mumbled obligingly.   
"I'd also like some champagne, by the way," Stephanie went on.   
"Champagne," Miss Molly sighed.   
"And make sure it's in a crystal goblet," Stephanie informed her.   
"Crystal, right." The teapot had yet to lose her patient smile.   
"And for dessert..." Stephanie paused to think on that choice, so Miss Molly shyly made a decision.   
"Chocolate?" she suggested. Stephanie looked at her like she had just grown two heads.   
"Dear God, no," she gasped, horrified at the prospect of consuming such a vile thing. "Do you know how fattening chocolate is? No, I was thinking of something along the lines of strawberries and cream," Stephanie told her.   
"Strawberries and sweet cream, right," Miss Molly mumbled, the cheeky grin beginning to strain for the first time in her entire life. "So, uh, is that all?"   
"Yes, that's all," Stephanie told her to her immense relief. Miss Molly let out an inner sigh, before venturing to ask, "And you _will_ be dining with Prince Kurt, right?"   
Stephanie played around with a lock of her chestnut brown hair, before sighing heavily and mumbling, "Yeah...I guess so." 

At that moment, there was the little pitt-patt sound of tiny wooden feet tottering clumsily toward them, as a wooden antique clock--Edge--nervously poked his head in the doorway.   
"Um...the dinner is, like, so totally served," he harrumphed, carefully averting his eyes from the two females in the room. Miss Molly noticed the way he shifted around uncomfortably, and frowned, deducing that something was obviously wrong.   
"What happened?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Edge fidgeted, glancing around at this and that, before finally coughing up the answer.   
"Prince Kurt doesn't want to come down to dinner," he admitted. At this Stephanie began to frown. _How dare he turn down the privilege of dining with someone like me?_ she thought furiously to herself. Crossing her arms, she inwardly declared, _I'm Stephanie McMahon, damn it! No living man dares say no to me! _Out loud, she huffed, "Well, if he doesn't have the decency to show up, then I won't either! I'm not going down to dinner, and there isn't a thing you can say or do that will change my mind!"   
Miss Molly sighed sadly. It had all started so well, why did the prince had to ruin everything by refusing to go downstairs to dinner? Turning to Edge, she asked, "Why won't Prince Kurt come down to dinner?" The little clock replied by mumbling something about how the prince wanted to make a good impression on a first date by actually wearing his gold medals.   
"Christian's trying to talk some sense into him right now," the blonde enchanted household item added. Miss Molly's frowned grew when she heard that. _We're doomed, _she sighed inwardly to herself. 

Way over in another wing lied the prince's chamber, and hunched over a smooth, polished redwood pedestal was the beastly prince, who sulked silently and clutched at his precious gold medals. Over in the entranceway stood a three-pronged brass candelabra, who was apparently trying to 'talk some sense' into the prince.   
"I'm not going," Kurt Angle pouted childishly, kicking his feet back and forth like a young child. "I just know she'll think I'm a loser because I can't even wear my gold medals!"   
"Dude, you are so totally wrong about that," Christian argued. "I mean, look at you! You're...er...very unique in appearance! Besides, you're a prince with gold medals. I mean, that so totally reeks of awesomeness! It won't matter to her whether you can wear them or not."   
Prince Kurt, meanwhile, had failed to listen, and was too busy trying in vain to yank the gold medals over his giant, beastly head.   
"Wah! It won't fit!" he wailed, tugging on the red-white-and-blue straps from which the medals dangled on. Christian waited none too patiently for the prince to stop blubbering, and when it appeared that said prince had no intentions of stopping anytime soon, the little candelabra picked up where he'd left off.   
"Dude, you totally reek of awesomeness! There's no reason for you to impress some hot chick with your gold medals. Please, please, please, just go down there before she starts to think that you're a total chumpstain for not showing up," he begged. Prince Kurt pouted, his lower lip sticking out rather childishly, before huffing and sighing heavily and reluctantly setting his array of gold medals--none of which fit over his head--onto the redwood pedestal.   
"Oh, all right," he sulked, and skipped off on his task. Christian gave a tiny little candelabra sigh, before scurrying after his prince. 

The duo arrived in front of Stephanie's chamber to find the double doors firmly locked and Edge and Miss Molly pacing around in front of them, having been kicked out of the room by its only human occupant. Prince Kurt skidded to a halt in front of the double doors and banged noisily on them with both furry fists.   
"Hurry up and come on down to dinner," he hollered, not knowing any other way to ask a lady to dine with him. Silence greeted his shouted request, before Stephanie's distinct voice harrumphed back, "I'm not hungry!" Prince Kurt's face scrunched up at this particular reply, before calling out, "Well, um...if you don't come out right now, I'm gonna...er, I'm gonna break this door down!"   
Silence. Miss Molly tentatively cleared her throat, and spoke up cheekily, "Uh...Prince Kurt, I don't really think that's the best way to endear yourself to a girl." Prince Kurt stared back with confused blue eyes.   
"I don't know any other way," he admitted. Meanwhile, Christian was saying, "Dude, just totally come on down to dinner with Prince Kurt and stop being such a reekette!"   
"That's not such a great way to impress a girl, either," Miss Molly piped up. The three males glared at her.   
"Then what is?" their prince finally asked. Miss Molly perked up.   
"Try asking her in a really nice, romantic way," she suggested. Prince Kurt scrunched up his nose, 'romantic' apparently not a word that popped up often in his daily vocabulary, eyebrows knitted tightly together to think.   
"Um...it would be a great honor...to...er...um, no, wait! Uh...I would be so totally delighted to...no, that's not it either! Great, I've been hanging around the reekazoids too long," Prince Kurt grumbled to himself. Miss Molly sighed, before calling out apologetically, "What the prince means is that it would be a great honor and privilege if you would please come down and dazzle his evening by gracing it with your presence."   
"Tell him he'll just have to deal with an undazzling evening, then," Stephanie replied back haughtily. "I'm Stephanie McMahon, dammit! Nobody turns _me_ down and then expects a second chance!"   
Prince Kurt scowled.   
"Well, I'm a multi-time gold medalist, dammit! And if you're going to be such a stick in the mud, then go ahead and starve to death, for all I care!" And with that, the beast prince stomped off, sulking and pouting, to a destination unknown to be alone. The three enchanted household items stared at the closed double doors in dismay.   
"And it was going so well," Miss Molly murmured sadly. Edge and Christian stared at her like she had gone crazy.   
"Right," the two brothers echoed, before Edge grumbled, "I'm so totally sick of playing matchmaker, it reeks of stinktitude," and stomped off. Miss Molly followed, chirping brightly over her shoulder, "Christian, you stay here in case Miss Stephanie does come out." Christian's jaw dropped.   
"That's heinosity! Why do _I_ have to stay behind?"   
But his brother and Miss Molly had already tottered off to the kitchen, and the candelabra's protests went unheeded. Christian made a face.   
"Fine. I'll stay behind and stand guard, you chumpstains. But I so totally won't like it." And with that, he began marching back and forth in front of Stephanie's doors like a Green Beret. 

Prince Kurt stormed up the set of stairs that led to the West Wing and into a dark, ominous room cluttered with antique furniture and old oil paintings. Sneezing from all the dust that had settled, the prince stormed over to the glass pedestal holding his medals and the magic rose that the enchantress he'd pissed off so many years ago had initially offered him. Beside the magical rose, which rested underneath a crystal cover, lied an elegantly carved silver mirror.   
"I can't believe the nerve of that...that..._girl!"_ the prince huffed, unable to come up with a better insult. "I invite her very nicely and very romantically to dine with me, and what does she do? She rejects me! _Me!"_   
Prince Kurt picked up the magic mirror, and growled into it, "Show me that...that...that...um, that _girl!" _Instantly, the smooth glass surface of the mirror flared with a magical peacock-blue light, before the hazy mists surrounding it cleared up to show Stephanie McMahon seated cross-legged on her pink canopy bed. Her lips were painted a deep red, and her eyes encircled by black mascara, but underneath the dark makeup lied a lovely, almost girlish face, and her shimmering chestnut hair had curls in it that day. Prince Kurt's expression softened. Even though she had just refused to dine with him, he still had to admit that she was awfully pretty. Perhaps Stephanie McMahon really could be the girl to break the spell. 

Two hours later, the French doors of Stephanie McMahon's all-pink chamber hesitantly cracked open a few inches. A head poked out cautiously, glancing left and right, and when she was satisfied that there was nobody around, Stephanie stepped out of her room and headed off into the hallway. Meanwhile, Christian, who was supposed to stand guard but had gone off to ogle the female servants, stopped chasing after Terri the blonde mop and noticed the doors to Stephanie's chamber wide open and the chestnut-haired young woman disappearing down the red-carpeted hall.   
"Oh, crap," Christian cursed to himself, and tottered off after Stephanie in a futile attempt to catch up with her. 

Stephanie, meanwhile, wandered aimlessly around the halls, stopping only to gaze at the paintings hanging on the walls. She soon found herself in the kitchen...and nearly face-to-face with Edge and Miss Molly, who were standing on a counter. Stephanie froze, and quickly closed the door, not wanting to deal with the enchanted household items, but it was too late and the duo had spotted her. Tottling out of the kitchen, Edge and Miss Molly stared up at Stephanie with wide eyes, before Miss Molly ventured sweetly, "Would you care for some dinner?" Stephanie hesitated, before realizing that at this hour of the night most of the food must have already been consumed and the rest stored away in the refrigerator...which meant that she would be eating leftovers if she accepted Miss Molly's offer. The prospect of dining on leftovers didn't exactly thrill her, so she turned her nose and flatly refused.   
"But I would like to look around," Stephanie admitted. Just then, there was the sound of brass scuttling over the polished marble floors, before a breathless Christian poked his little wax head into view.   
"The princess has so totally left her chamber," he wheezed out between gasps of air. Edge and Miss Molly glared pointedly at him, before chiming in unison, "We know!" Christian looked guilty.   
"Oops." 

Edge, Christian, and Miss Molly scurried across the red-carpeted hallway guarded by twin rows of metallic silver suits of armor, and following close behind was Stephanie, who already looked bored.   
"...acquired from sixteenth-century Spanish nobility," Miss Molly rambled on, playing tour guide and happily oblivious that nobody was paying attention but her. She took a deep breath of air, and went on. "Moving on, we go past the West Wing and into the library, which used to hold many classic works of literature, before Prince Kurt decided to redecorate and fill all five-story wall-to-wall shelves with wrestling books and nutrition guides..."   
Meanwhile, Stephanie passed by the suits of armor, casually sparing them a glance or two. A small metallic clatter could be heard, as she bent down to see what had fallen and caught sight of a shiny silver dollar. Meanwhile, the helmets on the suits of armor turned around simultaneous to when she bent down, while Edge looked back in disgust and mumbled something about how that was so totally the oldest trick in the book. With Miss Molly ranting on and the suits of armor checking out Stephanie's ass, the quartet made their way toward the staircase that led to the forbidden West Wing. The three enchanted household items paused briefly in front of it, before hurriedly scurrying on. However, Stephanie was not as reverent, and began ascending the stairs. Miss Molly, Edge, and Christian quickly sprinted in front of her, blocking the way.   
"What do you think you're doing?" Stephanie demanded irritably, and began to sidestep the three objects, who promptly zipped right back in front of her.   
"Um...you don't want to go there, trust me," Miss Molly spoke up hesitantly, her bright, cheerful smile replaced by an uncertain look. Stephanie gave her a patronizing look.   
"And why not?" she played along, sounding almost amused by the little pink teapot's discomfort. "Is Prince Kurt hiding something from me up there?" At this, all three household items let off peals of nervous laughter and tittering, before Edge cleared his throat and mumbled, "Er...the prince is so totally not hiding anything from you. He ain't a chumpstain, you know."   
"Yeah, Prince Kurt totally reeks of awesomeness. He wouldn't hide anything at all," Christian chimed in. Stephanie smirked.   
"In that case, there's no reason for me not to go up there." And with that, she resumed climbing the steps. The three household items shuffled hurriedly to block her path.   
"Wouldn't you like to see something else?" Miss Molly suggested nervously. "I mean, we have oil paintings, antique furniture, marble sculptures, flower gardens, classic books..." she babbled on, noting in dismay that none of the items mentioned seemed to interest Stephanie in the least bit. Not letting Steph's less than lukewarm response discourage her, Miss Molly plunged on.   
"...Exotic birds, gourmet food, designer clothes..." the pink teapot rattled off. Stephanie seemed to perk up at the mention of the last item.   
"Did you say designer clothes?" she asked. All three household items gave little tiny sighs of relief, realizing that apparently they had stumbled on something that seemed to remotely interest the young woman.   
"Oh, yeah, totally," Christian piped up. "Prince Kurt so has closetfuls of designer clothes that reek of awesomeness!" The little candelabra conveniently forgot to mention that they were all navy blue Olympic sweatsuits. Stephanie began to look mildly interested, as she placed a finger to her lips and apparently thought this over.   
"Okay, then," she agreed. "Lead the way."   
The three enchanted household items heaved enormous signs of relief, before tottering off, babbling happily about the closetfuls and closetfuls of designer clothes that Prince Kurt had just sitting around the castle. Stephanie took a step forward, apparently to follow the trio, before glancing logingly over at the West Wing, and hesitating. Her curiosity sparked, the dark-haired young woman promptly changed her mind, and began ascending the steps leading to the forbidden part of the enchanted castle. 

The West Wing, much to Steph's great disappointment, turned out to be just one measly room. After endless wandering across an array of different objects, including dusty antique furniture and a broken mirror, she finally stumbled across the gigantic double doors that led to the one room. Stephanie hesitated slightly before it, looking almost guilty as she snuck a glance behind her, before pulling the doors open. The lazy creaking noises were so loud in Stephanie's ears that she was sure they'd woken up the dead...but when seconds passed and not a soul stirred, she regained her confidence and plowed forward with that I'm-a-McMahon-dammit strut that the particular family was so well known for. She made her way through the sea of dusty antique furniture that cluttered the room in an unsightly manner, nearly knocking over a small, exquisitely carved rosewood pedestal as she walked up. Absently steadying the pedestal in place, Stephanie's eyes caught sight of an oil portrait, long since covered with layers of dust and spider webs. Curious, she inched forward, and blew the dust and torn cobwebs off of the painting. Coughing slightly in the dust cloud that had gathered, Stephanie rubbed her eyes free of the dirt and stared curiously at the oil portrait. It depicted a young man, she noticed, probably in his mid to late twenties. He had dark brown hair and sky blue eyes, and a smile so bright and energetic that even she had to crack a tiny grin. The young man in the painting was dressed in a red, white, and blue Olympic sweatsuit, and was posing proudly for the portrait, an array of shining gold medals hanging around his neck and a bouquet of flowers in his arms. Stephanie would have taken more time to gaze at the oil portrait, but a glittering pink light suddenly caught her attention out of the corner of her eyes. Turning around, the dark-haired young woman followed the almost magical source of light, and found herself staring at a beautiful, delicate red rose protected under a crystal cover. It was giving off a glittering pink light that seemed almost magical, and Stephanie couldn't resist the temptation to reach out and touch it. She hastily took off the crystal cover, and shyly extended one hand, very slowly, until the tips of her fingers made contact with the rose's delicate red petals. She smiled in delight, almost like a little girl who had just been handed the most wonderful of gifts, as she gazed at the glowing red rose in awe. 

And then, a sudden dark shadow sprang up menacingly, cloaking both Stephanie and the rose in its darkness. Stephanie immediately withdrew her hand and winced, knowing that she had been caught red-handed. _Uh-oh, _she inwardly sighed to herself, as she hesitantly raised her head, nearly cringing and having lost that arrogant McMahon pride as she awaited...whatever it was that was in store for her. A pair of sky blue eyes, eyes that matched the ones in the oil portrait, stared right back, almost in a confused fashion. Prince Kurt glanced carelessly at the intruder in his supposedly forbidden West Wing, before opening his mouth and demanding to know, "Er...what are you doing here?" Stephanie straightened up from her feeble position, realizing that she had been cringing while the prince spoke, and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure and her air of haughty arrogance.   
"I thought this was the forbidden West Wing," she remarked pointedly, choosing to ignore his question. Prince Kurt shrugged.   
"Edge and Christian said to call it the forbidden West Wing because it would so totally reek of awesomeness," he admitted. He scrunched up his face, as if thinking of something. "That, and something about how nobody's supposed to touch the magic rose."   
Stephanie quickly slid both hands behind her back.   
"Oops," she muttered under her breath. Looking guiltily around to change the subject, her eyes fell on the oil portrait, and she asked, "Who's that?" Prince Kurt followed her gaze to the painting, and a familiar bright smile lit up his face.   
"Oh, that's me, posing after my Olympic gold medal victory," he said.   
"You mean you really do have gold medals?" Stephanie asked. Prince Kurt looked offended.   
"I'll have you know that I possess all three I's: Intensity, Integritiy, and Intelligence, and Integrity does not allow me to lie (too often)," he huffed. Stephanie made the mistake of trying to strike up casual conversation with him, as she asked, "So, then...how did you win all of your gold medals?"   
Prince Kurt's eyes gleamed with unholy glee, as he began his painfully long tale.   
"It was the summer of, oh, I think, five years ago, and I was wrestling this big, ugly dude with some name I can't pronounce for the gold..." 

Two hours later, Stephanie, who, miraculously, hadn't passed out from sheer and utter boredom, was sent bolting from the supposedly forbidden West Wing, screaming for her daddy and wailing about how she couldn't take the long and endless gold medal stories anymore. Edge, Christian, and Miss Molly, who had been frantically searching for her ever since they'd grandly flung open the display of row upon row of Olympic sweatsuits and noticed that their guest was missing, gave matching grimaces.   
"Dude, I guess Prince Kurt totally blew that chance too," Christian mumbled. Miss Molly was staring after Stephanie's retreating back in dismay.   
"But Miss Stephanie, you promised to stay here for a whole year and fall in love with Prince Kurt," she called out after the figure disappearing down the stairs. Stephanie glanced back at her incredulously.   
"I know I promised that, but I honestly don't know how much longer I can put up with that endless blabbering about gold medal matches!" And with that, she flung the castle doors wide open and zipped out of the building. Miss Molly sighed, and tottered off to inform Prince Kurt that their last chance at being normal again had just disappeared out the doors. 

Meanwhile, Stephanie quickly mounted Foley the horse, who took one look at her face and wordlessly began to sprint away from the castle, not needing to be informed that he had to take the youngest McMahon as far away as possible, or else he was fired. The two sped off into the dark forest path, Foley's hooves creating deep, denting footprints in the thick snow. However, the duo was barely a couple hundred yards away from the enchanted castle when they got lost.   
"Oh, great," Stephanie muttered, and glanced around herself. As she was telling herself that the situation couldn't possibly get any worse, it did, as her ears picked up the chilling sound of feral growls ringing across the black forest. Stephanie gulped, and glanced around wildly, as a pack of black-and-grey wolves slowly inched into visibility, their eyes glowing a fierce red, their sharp fangs gleaming white in the pale moonlight. The young woman silently swore to herself, as she silently counted the number of wolves that were surrounding herself and her horse. Foley, meanwhile, was running around in circles, not knowing what else to do. Stephanie glared down at him in disgust.   
"Well don't just stand there, you tub of lard!" she screeched. "Do something!"   
Just then, the nearest and boldest wolf pounced, and Foley heeding his mistress's advice, reared up and kicked it away. The wolf went flying through the air, howling furiously, and was knocked stiffly into the trunk of a nearby pine tree. The rest of the pack cautiously backed off a bit, now wary of their much larger prey, but it wasn't long before another member dove in for the kill, taking a nip out of one of Foley's ankles. The horse reared up wildly, and kicked blindly into the snow, as Stephanie struggled to hang on, scowling all the way. She was going to fall off her mount if he kept up this act, and she certainly had no intention of getting her brand new designer silk suit dirty. With Foley busy keeping the wolves attacking him at bay and Stephanie scowling at the prospect of getting her clothes all mangled, neither of them noticed a single black wolf stealthily creep up on them...until it pounced, leaping high into the air and making a move to drag Stephanie off her mount. Stephanie turned around, just in time to see the fiercely glowing red eyes and sharp ivory fangs flying toward her, and she opened her mouth and screamed. 

And then the wolf stopped in mid-flight, as it was yanked just inches before it struck Stephanie on her horse and tossed carelessly onto the snow. Stephanie looked around in surprise, and saw Prince Kurt Angle, standing protectively in front of her and her horse. Another wolf flew through the air, aiming its attack toward the beast prince, and slashed viciously at his left arm, leaving wide, bloody gashes. As Stephanie screeched in horror, Prince Kurt grunted and waved his arm wildly back and forth, trying desperately to shake the tenacious canine from him. With Stephanie screeching along, the beast prince was finally able to pry the wolf's jaws off of his poor arm, and flung him into the other wolves. The pack regrouped, and arched their backs repectively, snarling and growling at the beast prince and Stephanie. Prince Kurt shrugged, before letting out a beastly roar. That, combined with Stephanie's atrocious screeching, was enough to send the wolves packing, as all of the canines took off into the forest with their tails tucked between their legs, whimpering pathetically. Prince Kurt turned to Stephanie, who was still screeching. He tried to say something, but the shrill, high-pitched whine got to him first, as the beastly Prince Kurt Angle's eyes rolled into his head and passed out, partly from the loss of blood and scuffle with the wolves, mostly from Stephanie's ear-shattering screeching. Stephanie finally stopped screaming when she realized that the beast prince had flatly passed out cold in the snow. She closed her mouth, and prepared to ride back home...before realizing that she was lost and wouldn't be able to find her way to Connecticut in the snowstorm. Shrugging and deciding that it would be a better idea to return to the castle, she slowly guided Foley back in the direction of the enchanted place, reluctantly dragging Prince Kurt along because she somehow had the feeling that she wouldn't be too warmly welcomed back if the servants found out that she had abandoned their master. 

Stephanie used Miss Molly to pour hot water into a basin, and watched as the steaming liquid mixed with the medicine. Seated in a velvet chair in front of the roaring fireplace was Prince Kurt, who was clutching his injured arm and sniffling. Stephanie shot him an impatient look, and snapped, "Stick out your arm and don't scream." Prince Kurt pouted, and shook his head no, clearly indicating that he didn't want that 'yucky medicine' put on him. Irritated by his immature approach at life, Stephanie grabbed his arm and splattered the medicine-soaked towel against his arm. Prince Kurt squawked, whining, "Ouchy, ouchy, ouchy!" and instantly pulling his arm back.   
"I told you to stick your arm out and stop screaming," Stephanie reminded in annoyedly. Prince Kurt frowned.   
"But it hurts," he whined childishly. Stephanie impatiently tucked back a strand of chestnut brown hair.   
"Well it wouldn't hurt as much if you weren't such a baby about it," she snapped irritably. Prince Kurt gave her a dirty look.   
"Well if you hadn't run off, I wouldn't have had an injury to be a baby over, now would I? Wait a minute, that didn't sound right..." His voice trailed off, as he began composing sentences in his head.   
"Well if you hadn't bored me to tears with your stories about your gold medals, then I wouldn't have run off!" Stephanie shot back. Prince Kurt failed to respond, as he was still too busy trying to come up with a retort that would sound good to her first insult. Stephanie sighed irritably, and mumbled, "Forget about it. Just...please stick out your arm and let me bandage you up. It might sting a bit, but at least it's better than getting a nasty infection." Prince Kurt pouted, before reluctantly obeying and sticking his arm out. Stephanie dabbed at the wounds with the towel, with the beast prince whining, "Ouchy!" the whole way. Finally, the task was done, and both parties heaved sighs of relief as Stephanie began wrapping a bandage around the cleansed wounds. Looking down at the ground and suddenly becoming absolutely fascinated by the carpet design, Stephanie mumbled, "By the way, I just wanted to...um...to thank you for saving my life." Prince Kurt smiled brightly.   
"Your welcome," he chirped cheekily. 


	5. Chapter Four

Stephanie frolicked in the snow with her horse, looking somewhat grumpy in her navy blue Olympic sweatsuit. She had been forced to wear it, since the entire castle's wardrobe consisted of rows upon rows of nearly identical Olympic sweatsuits, and her own designer silk pantsuit had eventually gotten dirty. Gazing down at the frolicking young woman from his balcony, Prince Kurt absently patted his healing bandaged arm as he watched Stephanie walk around in the snow, occasionally picking at her blue Olympic sweatsuit in distaste.   
"I want to do something for her," the prince spoke up from out of the blue, the idea suddenly coming to him. Turning to Edge and Christian, who were standing precariously on the balcony's edge, he asked, "But what should I do? I'm not sure on what to give her."   
Edge shrugged, before randomly naming off things off the top of his head.   
"Roses, chocolate, promises you don't intend to keep..." the little clock rattled off. Christian looked at him in disgust.   
"Bro, that is so totally lamesville," he remarked, then turned to Prince Kurt. "The present that you give her has to totally reek of awesomeness, but it will also have to be something special to her..." His voice trailed off as he thought about it, before a light bulb went off in his head and Christian chirped, "I've so totally got it, dude!" 

Prince Kurt pranced about the hallways of the castle, leading Stephanie by the hand and forcing her to skip along as well, which she did so rather reluctantly. He skidded to a halt in front of a set of double doors, and did a full one-eighty, turning around to face his guest.   
"Steph, I've got a present I want to give you," he began, almost shyly and looking down at the floor to avoid making contact with her amused blue eyes. Stephanie began to smile at the word 'present', but then the prince told her, "Now I want you to close your eyes." Immediately, the wide smile disappeared, to give way for a suspicious frown as Stephanie eyed him warily. Prince Kurt pouted.   
"It's a surprise," he told her. "Now please, just close your eyes. I swear you'll love it."   
Stephanie still looked hesitant, before obligingly closing her eyes. Prince Kurt grinned, and inched his way to the French doors. He turned around right before he was about to open them, and waved his hand back and forth in front of Stephanie's face. Noticing a slight twitch, the beast prince frowned, before suddenly perking up and reaching over to snatch the nearest object--which, unfortunately, just happened to be a fluffy red-and-white Santa hat--plunking it right over Stephanie's head.   
"Hey--!" As Stephanie screeched her protests, Prince Kurt, happily oblivious to the shrill whining, flung open the double doors and led Stephanie into the room.   
"Now you can open your eyes," he chirped cheekily, and waited. And waited...and waited...and waited...   
"Um, Steph?" Prince Kurt asked tentatively, turning around. He then noticed that Stephanie was still screeching her protests, the fluffy Santa hat pulled tightly over her head muffling her voice somewhat.   
"Oops," the prince muttered, before quickly yanking the hat off. Stephanie took a long breath of fresh air, her hair all mussed and her face red. Turning a poisonous glare on the guilty-looking prince, she hollered, "What the hell did you think you were doing...Wow! What's this?" The young woman took notice of the room that they were standing in. The sweet, exotic scent of potpourri gave the place a distinctive feminine touch, as did the fresh flowers and soft pastel decor. Rows upon rows of the trendiest designer clothes were displayed stylishly all over the room, as Prince Kurt mumbled, "I had Miss Molly order the latest designer clothes from a catalog...I...I hope you like it." Stephanie, admiring the gigantic chamber, turned to the prince with a bright smile.   
"I love it!" she squealed, and without thinking, flung her arms around Prince Kurt and drew him in a warm, friendly embrace. Meanwhile, watching from outside the doors, Edge and Christian tried to give each other high fives as best as they could, chorusing, "Score one for the beast-man!", while Miss Molly watched the scene dreamily and murmured, "How romantic." 

Prince Kurt happily tripped his way over to his bathroom, absently shaking snow from his fur from where Stephanie had pelted him with snowballs after he'd tried to get her to feed the cute little birdies frolicking near the ground. As he made his way across the tiled floor, the prince tripped over an unseen wire, and promptly fell facefirst into the gigantic marble bathtub, which was filled to the brim with bubbly bathwater. As foamy water splashed all over the walls and the hapless prince gargled obscenities through a mouthful of scented bubblebath, the sound of tiny little brass feet could be heard, and Christian tentatively poked his head into the room. Seeing that Prince Kurt was temporarily helpless, splashing in a rather silly manner in the mass of bubbles and scented water, he let out a shrill, piercing whistle.   
"Now!" the little candelabra shouted, and a flurry of enchanted household item limbs attacked the prone prince, dunking him in the water, scrubbing him and soaping him, rinsing him off, wrapping a towel around him, and using a dryer to blow him dry. When they were done, Prince Kurt's hairs stood on end, with little violet ribbons tied to every cluster of fur.   
"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" the prince screeched, forgetting his Integrity and yelling at the candelabra that had been overseeing the whole operation. Christian instinctively backed away several feet from the furious beast prince.   
"It was totally all Miss Molly's fault," he spluttered, immediately pinning the blame on someone else. "She was the one who so came up with the idea to primp you up, which I said totally reeked of heinosity!"   
Prince Kurt only growled, and shook his fur wildly, ripping the tiny violet ribbons out with a vengeance. Christian sighed.   
"Eh...I always thought the whole gentleman look totally reeked of stinktitude, anyway," he mumbled, and tottered off. 

Stephanie strutted daintily out of her chamber in an elegant gold evening gown and high heels. She had put curls on her hair, and rather light makeup, allowing her innocent, girlish appeal to shine through. Meanwhile, way across, there was the sound of loud protesting, before Prince Kurt, looking somewhat silly in a peacock blue coat over a white dress shirt and a frilly scarf, was pushed out by a hoard of servants, a scattering of torn ribbons sticking to his fur in several places. The prince tripped his way down the set of stairs, looking somewhat uncomfortable in his crisp, tight-fitting black pants. Stephanie had to stop herself from doing a double take. This wasn't exactly Prince Charming, or a valiant knight in shining armor, she observed, as she watched the prince nearly fall flat on his butt. Shrugging, she mumbled, "Eh, close enough," and reached out to take Prince Kurt's hand...the one that wasn't rubbing his sore behind, anyway. Prince Kurt looked uneasy as she led him daintily to the dance floor and placed one hand on his shoulder while keeping the other in his own hand. The two then began waltzing to soft, classical music, Edge and Christian and their kazoos having been banned from the ballroom. Prince Kurt, meanwhile, was sweating bullets as Stephanie pulled him into the dance, struggling to keep from stepping all over her delicate feet and barely succeeding. Miss Molly and Terri, meanwhile, peeked out from behind the doors leading to the ballroom, sighing dreamily and making sure that Edge and Christian and their kazoos were nowhere near the dance floor. After a few minutes of dancing, Prince Kurt seemed to relax, and even started to enjoy himself. The two twirled around the ballroom, dancing the night away, before Prince Kurt slowly led Stephanie away from the dance floor and out onto the balcony. 

Stephanie seated herself daintily on the smooth, marble railing, and waited patiently while Prince Kurt joined her on the balcony, fidgeting nervously and looking in every which direction except her face. After several minutes of waiting, Stephanie began to get impatient, and started fidgeting herself. Staring in dismay at the fidgeting couple, Miss Molly hopped up and down to get Prince Kurt's attention and mouthed _Say something to her!_ Prince Kurt squinted as he deciphered her unspoken words, before finally understanding what she meant and saying cheerfully, "Okay!" The sudden word caught Stephanie's attention, as she asked absently, "Okay what?" Prince Kurt turned around, looking as guilty as a five-year-old child who had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar, and squeaked, "Nothing." Stephanie let it go.   
"Oh. All right, then."   
The pair continued to fidget, and the normally patient Miss Molly felt like slapping her head, when Prince Kurt suddenly brightened, and turned to Stephanie excitedly, looking like he'd just come up with the world's best pick up line.   
"So, uh...are you happy here, Steph?" he asked cheekily. Stephanie turned to face him.   
"Yes," she replied simply, and returned to her star gazing. Prince Kurt blinked, as if he hadn't been expecting such a short answer, and returned to thinking up another 'pick up' line. However, by some miracle of God, the usually self-absorbed Prince Kurt noticed that Stephanie held a longing, faraway look in her clear blue eyes as she gazed at the sparkling diamonds in the sky, and immediately asked, "What's the matter?"   
"My...my daddy," Stephanie admitted. "I'm kind of worried about him, ever since he started feuding with Mom and Shane. I mean, he's always had me to stand by him...and now he's got to face my mother and brother by himself. I wish I knew whether he's doing okay against Mom and Shane."   
Prince Kurt, meanwhile, sat there stupidly while she poured her heart out, her words going in one beastly ear and traveling right out the other. The only words he caught were 'worried' and 'daddy', and he blinked rapidly.   
"Oh, yeah, you're worried about your daddy," he mumbled, praying to God that he'd gotten it right. Apparently, he had, and Prince Kurt brightened up and said, "Oh, it's real easy to check up on your dad."   
Stephanie brightened.   
"It is?" she asked hopefully.   
"Well sure," Prince Kurt told her, and led her up to the 'forbidden' West Wing. Pulling the magical mirror from the pedestal, he told her, "This mirror will show you whatever you want. Just tell it what you want to see."   
Stephanie brightened.   
"Really?" At his nod, a mischievous look overtook her features. "You mean it can even show me, say, the men's weight room?"   
"Well, um, uck, you know..." Prince Kurt stuttered, not quite expecting her answer, as Stephanie turned to the mirror with unholy glee and voiced her request. Prince Kurt waited patiently while Stephanie drooled over the mirror, tapping his feet and fidgeting occasionally. Finally, he cleared his throat and asked, "Erm...shouldn't you be checking up on your dad?"   
Stephanie blushed, and quickly cleared her throat.   
"Uh...right," she muttered, grumbling under her breath about having her fun spoiled.   
"Magic mirror, show me my daddy," the young woman requested. Instantly, a bright green light flashed from the mirror, momentarily blinding Stephanie, and when the lights dimmed and the swirling mists cleared up, Steph saw clearly her father making an announcement at a press conference about how he was about to close a historical deal by purchasing WCW, Inc. Stephanie's gloating smile was cut off short when her brother Shane interrupted the press conference, walked boldly up to the dais, and elbowed Mr. McMahon out of the way. Taking the microphone, the dark-haired McMahon emphatically announced that while his father was busy gloating, he had gone to Atlanta and bought out WCW from right underneath Vince's nose, while Stephanie watched on in horror.   
"Oh, no! Daddy!" Thankfully, she kept her screech down to a low volume, much to the relief of the beast prince standing next to her. Prince Kurt blinked wide blue eyes at her distress, and guessed uncertainly, "I'm assuming that something's wrong with your dad?" Stephanie ignored him, and continued to screech obscenities into the mirror, all of them directed at her brother. Prince Kurt began to look nervous, as he slowly and inconspicuously started inching away from the raving madwoman...erm, young woman.   
"Uh...maybe you should go now, Steph, and help out your dad," Prince Kurt mumbled nervously, wondering whether his servants had set him up with a deranged psychopath. "You know, since your dad obviously needs you more, I...I think it'll be a good idea if I let you free so you can go to him."   
Stephanie thankfully stopped screeching out insults at Shane's gloating visage in the mirror, and turned to face Prince Kurt with a sweet smile on her face.   
"Really? Thank you so much for understanding," the youngest McMahon whispered tenderly, all signs of the screeching, deranged half of her personality flying out the window. Prince Kurt blushed, and looked shyly down at the ground with an _Aw, shucks_ expression on his face, as Stephanie gave him a light, friendly hug. When she tried to return the mirror, the prince told her, "No, keep it. That way, you will always have a part of me." _And that way in case you don't return, I'll have an excuse to come get you,_ he silently added. Stephanie smiled sweetly, before hurrying off to change and leave, turning to the mirror and growling, "Oh, you are so gonna get it, Shane!" 

As Steph strutted out of the room, Edge scuffled in, a wide grin on his face.   
"Dude, you so totally swept her off her feet," he gloated. "Man, we are gonna be back to our totally reeking of awesomeness human selves in no time."   
Prince Kurt looked guilty.   
"Um...I don't really think that's gonna happen," he mumbled in a voice barely above a whisper. Edge looked shocked.   
"But...but...but why not?" he choked out in a strangled whisper. The prince sighed, and looked out his window.   
"Because I let her go," he admitted softly. Edge looked as if he didn't know whether to faint dead away or pound Prince Kurt to the floor.   
"But...but...but why?" he squeaked, apparently having decided to go with Choice C--neither.   
"Because she scares the hell out of me sometimes!" Prince Kurt whined. And then, in a quieter voice, he admitted shyly, "And also because I love her, and I don't want to see her miserable and screeching obscenities." 


	6. Chapter Five

Stephanie mounted Foley the horse, and the two sped across the dark forest path, this time no wolves in sight to antagonize them. Stephanie dug in her heels into her horse's back as he sprinted toward her hometown, urging him to go faster. The two finally reached the outskirts of Connecticut at around two in the morning, and Foley quickly sprinted the several hundred yards to the McMahon estate. Stephanie dismounted and dashed into the house, flinging the door wide open and calling out, "Daddy?!" 

A dispirited mumble was her reply, and Stephanie quickly groped around in the dark until she found her way into the library. There, seated in front of a dying fire, was Mr. McMahon, eyes bloodshot, glass of whiskey in hand. Stephanie quickly hurried over to her father's side.   
"Daddy," she whispered. Mr. McMahon barely glanced up, saying nothing, so Stephanie continued.   
"Daddy, I saw what happened with Shane and WCW," she murmured quietly. Then, glancing up uncertainly at her defeated-looking father, she asked, "Are...are you okay?"   
At this, Mr. McMahon let out an impatient groan.   
"Of course I'm not okay, Stephanie," he muttered bitterly. "How could Shane have outsmarted me? I always knew he had the McMahon streak in him...but I never knew he would use it to outsmart _me!"_   
"Oh, Daddy," Stephanie murmured in a hushed voice. "You'll find a way to get back at him, I promise. You'll be fine."   
"Fine? Fine?!" Mr. McMahon was getting himself worked up over this. "I came straight home and fired all my lawyers, and then rehired them just so I could fire them again...and I still feel like crap!"   
"Aw, Daddy," Stephanie cooed, and reached out to hug her father. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. And if Shane decides that he'll keep WCW, I can sic my friend on him. He's a beast prince, you know."   
"Yeah, I guess so," her father mumbled. Stephanie frowned.   
"Come on, Daddy. I mean, you're the chairman of WWF, Inc! You're Vince McMahon, dammit! You can do whatever you want, whenever you want to! You're a McMahon," she fired off like a drill sergeant. Mr. McMahon seemed to be getting his pompous arrogance back.   
"You're right," he said, and straightened up. "I'm Vince McMahon, dammit! I can run Shane out of business and squash him like a fly on the wall!"   
"That's right," Stephanie agreed vigorously. "And together, we can drive Mom and Shane out of here for good!" 

Just as the two McMahons were getting worked up and ready to do battle against the other half of the McMahon family, there was the sound of the doorbell ringing. Stephanie frowned irritably. Who could be visiting at this hour?   
"Coming," she called out, and strutted over to the door, flinging it wide open. "What?!"   
Hunter Hearst Helmsley's grinning face greeted her. His long, dark blonde hair was loose, with a leather cap pulled over it, and in his hands he clutched a tall bottle of whiskey that looked suspiciously murky--almost as if it had been drugged with, oh, I don't know, say, sleeping pills, perhaps?   
"Stephanie-uh, it's so nice to see you're back-uh," he drawled lazily. Stephanie frowned. Not Hunter again. She thought she'd gotten rid of him that last time when he'd had the audacity to suggest she marry him and spend the rest of her life popping out crying, smelly babies.   
"What are you doing here, Hunter?" she asked, none too politely. Hunter grinned, and held up the whiskey bottle.   
"I just thought-uh you might be interested-uh in having a drink-uh of this obviously non-drugged liquor with me-uh," he suggested pleasantly. Stephanie turned up her nose on him.   
"No, thank you," she informed him tightly, and was about to slam the doors shut when Hunter took a hold of her arm and yanked her out of the mansion.   
"Hey!" Stephanie's screeched out protest was cut short when she saw the not-so-elaborate outdoors wedding party set up, and the sleepy townsfolk gathered dully around the gigantic white wedding cake.   
"Steph-uh, I'm gonna drug your drink-uh and then we're getting married-uh, whether you like it or not-uh," Hunter growled. "Your father-uh already agreed to it-uh."   
Stephanie turned accusing eyes on her father, who had sheepishly stepped outside to check on the commotion.   
"Daddy!" she whined shrilly. Mr. McMahon looked down guiltily, suddenly fascinated by the patch of snow in front of his shoes.   
"Sorry, Steph," he mumbled an apology. "I guess I was too depressed over Shane and WCW to really hear what Hunter here was saying."   
Stephanie huffed in annoyance, before yanking her arm out of Hunter's grip and snapping, "Hunter, there is no way I'm marrying you, and if you try to, I'll sic my friend on you! He's a beast prince living in a castle in the forest, and he'll do anything for me!"   
Hunter snorted in amusement at her far-fetched words.   
"Right-uh," he mocked. "And does your friend-uh turn into a human-uh whenever the moon is not full-uh?"   
Stephanie glared at him, and darted back into the house, before returning a few seconds later armed with the magical mirror that Prince Kurt had given to her just hours earlier.   
"I'll have you know that my friend exists, and I can prove it with this!" And with those words said, Stephanie held up the mirror triumphantly, while shouting, "Show me Prince Kurt Angle!" 

Instantly, the magical bright light flashed, and the hazy blue mists swirled around the glass surface of the mirror to reveal Prince Kurt...doing his daily stretches. Hunter squinted at the disturbing image, before grunting, "All I see-uh is a furry, beastly ass-uh!"   
"Huh?" A confused Stephanie whipped the mirror around and gazed into it. "Oh, oops." She started shaking the small, ornate instrument wildly, mumbling, "Maybe this will change the angle of it...or not...Oh, great! Come on, stupid mirror! Show me his face, not his behind!" While Stephanie was busy screeching obscenities at the mirror, Prince Kurt finished his daily workout routine and stood up, toweling himself off.   
"That was refreshing. Woo!" he chirped sunnily. "And now to get some milk. Woo!"   
Just then, Stephanie noticed that the beast prince's head was now clearly visible, and she once again displayed it for the whole crowd to see.   
"See? I told you my beast prince existed," she gloated gleefully. A random, unnamed lady took one look and squawked shrilly, "Is he dangerous?!"   
"Oh, no, of course not," Stephanie hastened to assure. "I mean, I know he looks kind of scary, but he's actually a really cute and sweet guy...when he's not bragging about his gold medals, anyway."   
Hunter noticed the softened tone that Stephanie used when describing her prince, and began to frown. Snatching the mirror away from her while she was busy spouting off all the good qualities of Prince Kurt, he declared, "Don't listen to her-uh! Just look at those beady eyes-uh, and those sharp fangs-uh! This beast will sneak into town at night-uh and savagely tear your children apart-uh!" while waving the magic mirror around wildly. The villagers, hearing Hunter's words, promptly jumped on the bandwagon and began shouting their agreements.   
"We have to storm that wretched castle-uh and stop this horrible beast-uh!" Hunter thundered, sounding like he actually knew what he was doing. "Who's with me-uh?"   
"Everyone!" the townsfolk shouted in unison, as Hunter mounted his black stallion and trotted off, heading toward the dark forest path with the overzealous townsfolk in tow, shouting about how they were going to slay the horrible beast in the castle.   
"Gee, I wonder where they got those torches and pitchforks so fast," Stephanie observed, before quickly turning her attention to more important subjects. "Oh, yeah! I've got to warn Prince Kurt about Hunter and his mob!" And with that, she rushed off and got into her daddy's newly-repaired limo, speeding toward the castle as fast as a limousine could possibly go. 


	7. Chapter Six

Hunter and Company marched boldly through the black forest, the only lights illuminating their dark path coming from the flaming torches that numerous townsfolk carried.   
"Whatever riches-uh you find-uh in the castle-uh you can take for yourselves-uh, but the fiendish beast-uh is mine-uh!" Hunter thundered authoritatively, while the enthusiastic people following him shouted their approval at his generosity. The group marched forward, the enchanted castle with its cursed inhabitants rapidly approaching with each step. 

Meanwhile, back at the castle, Edge and Christian were arguing amongst themselves over whose fault it was that Stephanie McMahon had gotten away, with Miss Molly playing peacemaker and failing miserably at her job, when raucous noises invaded their ears and the enchanted household items all tottered over to the windows.   
"Invaders!" Christian eeped, watching in horror at the file of angry townsfolk with their flaming torches storming down the castle gates.   
"Oh, that is so totally heinosity," Edge muttered, observing the mob through his little clock eyes.   
"And they've got the mirror," Miss Molly observed, noticing said magical object clipped to the belt of the tall, rugged man leading the mob.   
"Dude, like, let's go find Prince Kurt," Edge suggested, and with that the trio scattered off to find said prince. 

Kurt Angle was hunched over his magical rose, absently toying with his gold medals when Edge, Christian, and Miss Molly sprinted into his chamber, red-faced and panting from having run so hard.   
"Like, dude, there's so totally a bunch of townspeople that reek of stinktitude storming the castle," Christian shrilled in a piercing voice. The prince's subsequent reaction wasn't exactly what the trio had expected. Prince Kurt suddenly perked up at the mention of the word 'townspeople', and squealed excitedly, "Yay! Visitors! Oh, I never get any of them anymore. Oh man, it will be so exciting, oh, I've got to get ready, and polish my gold medals, and naturally tell them of my stunning victories, oh and Edge and Christian, you two come over, I could use the two of you...Miss Molly, you just twirl around until you get dizzy or something!" And the prince scurried off, chattering happily about how he finally had some new people to tell his story of how he won all his gold medals. The hapless enchanted objects just stared after him in dismay, before obediently tottering off after him. 

Meanwhile, the angry mob led by Hunter had finally succeeded in breaking down the castle gates, and stormed into the palatial building, glancing around expectantly.   
"Come out-uh you vile beast-uh so I can slay you-uh and win Stephanie McMahon's heart-uh," Hunter challenged in as macho a tone as possible. Standing beside him, X-Pac snorted, "And her billion-dollar inheritance, of course."   
"That, too," Hunter mumbled absently, and waited for some sort of response. What he got wasn't exactly what he had been expecting...or hoping for, as the beastly Prince Kurt bounced out from God only knew where, a bright, silly grin on his face and an array of gold medals dangling from his hands. At his sides were a clock and a candelabra, both of which were clutching what appeared to be miniature kazoos in their, um, hands.   
"Ooh, visitors, this is so cool, I finally get to recount my Olympic gold medal victories to someone other than myself," Prince Kurt squealed. While he cleared his throat dramatically, the clock and the candelabra started playing _Medal_ on their kazoos, and after nearly five minutes of going "Ahem!" the prince finally began his tale.   
"It was the summer of, oh, I think, five years ago, and I was wrestling this big, ugly dude with some name I can't pronounce for the gold..." 

**Fifteen Minutes Later...**

Hunter and his mob of angry, torch-waving, pitchfork-wielding townspeople promptly ran screaming out of the castle, too bored of the endless tale to stay a second longer inside. The weaker ones had already fainted dead away, long lines of unsightly drool dribbling down their chins. About thirty seconds after Hunter and Company had been sent bolting right back to town, Stephanie McMahon arrived in her limo. Not knowing that Hunter and his murderously overzealous crowd of lunatics had already left, she dashed into the castle at a frantic space.   
"Hunter! Hunter, please spare him!" Stephanie screeched. A long pause, during which she assumed that Hunter had completely ignored her words.   
"Please, Hunter," Stephanie half-begged, half-shrilled. "Please spare Kurt! Do it for me, please! I don't want you to kill him because...because I...because I...um...lo-love him!"   
"...and then, when it seemed like my opponent had the match won, I quickly went for a fireman's carry, which is a move in which...You do?" Prince Kurt abruptly stopped his babbling, and glanced over at Stephanie with wide blue eyes. Stephanie met his gaze with steady eyes.   
"Yes," she repeated. "I do." 

A happy, goofy grin lit up the beast prince's face.   
"Oh, Steph, I don't know what to say--" He was promptly cut off when a magical golden light erupted from all around him. Prince Kurt's eyes widened impossibly, as he was magically lifted a good twenty feet in the air, and he promptly wailed, "Wah! Let me down! I'm afraid of heights!" However, whoever was doing this paid him no attention, and both Kurt and Stephanie could only watch as the beast prince's furry paws slimmed down and were restored to normal human hands.   
"Ouchy! That hurts!" Prince Kurt whined, as the magical golden light continued to change him back to normal. The finished product resulted in a very much human Prince Kurt Angle, who was then dropped unceremoniously onto his butt. Stephanie recognized his face as the same one from the oil portrait in the West Wing.   
"Ouchy! What was that all about?" Prince Kurt sniffed as he rubbed his sore behind...when he suddenly seemed to notice something and glanced down at his palms. "Hey! I'm normal!" The prince then turned uncertainly to Stephanie.   
"Am I?" he asked anxiously. Stephanie, who had been busy gawking open-mouthed at this display of magic, finally found her voice and stuttered, "Ye--Yes. You're...you're you again!" Prince Kurt looked like he wanted to jump up and down for joy.   
"Woo! I think I'm gonna celebrate with milk!" he cheered. 

"Dude, don't you think you should ask the chick to dance, first?" a very familiar Canadian valley boy voice spoke up. Stephanie turned around...and gaped, rubbing her eyes and wondering whether she was seeing double. Two tall, thin young men with long blonde hair stared right back at her. Stephanie squinted, unable to tell them apart, before noticing that one was slightly shorter, and had a stubble of a beard on his chin. Standing between them was a pretty girl with wavy wheat-blonde hair, and Stephanie could swear that they could be related. Prince Kurt, meanwhile, seemed to have as much trouble as Stephanie telling all three blondes apart.   
"Edge, my man, guess you're right," he said, slapping one of the blondes across the shoulder. The blonde stared at him.   
"Dude, I'm so totally Christian," he reminded him. Prince Kurt looked guilty.   
"Sure you are," he agreed, then turned to another of the blondes and asked, "Are you Edge?"   
The blonde gave him an indignant look.   
"I'm Miss Molly!" she screeched unhappily, to which the prince replied, "Oops." Turning to the last blonde remaining, he muttered, "Guess you must be Edge, then." An uncertain look crossed his face.   
"Unless, of course, you're Terri?" he asked quizzically. The tall blonde Canadian looked at him impatiently.   
"Dude, do you see any boobs down there?" he demanded. Prince Kurt laughed nervously.   
"Eh heh. Guess you really are Edge, then," he mumbled absently.   
"Ahem."   
All four of them turned around to look at an impatient Stephanie, who had been tapping her feet against the floor while Prince Kurt had been making a fool of himself, mixing up the names and genders of his servants. Arching her eyebrows, Stephanie demanded, "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?", directing her question at the prince. Kurt Angle tee heed nervously.   
"Erm...right," he mumbled. 

And so all of the now human castle residents gazed at the couple, who had each taken the time to change into nicer clothes, happily dancing away in the ballroom, Prince Kurt still fumbling to make sure he didn't stomp all over Stephanie's feet. The two of them waltzed the day away and lived happily ever after, as the picture shifted into a stained glass design of Kurt Angle and Stephanie McMahon dancing happily, with the magical red rose arched high above them. 

* * *

**_~ The End ~_**


End file.
